"Who told you?" said Patty again.

"West Ford," said Tony; "but anybody might; it's just one of the stories round the place."

"Did you ever hear any more, Tony?" said Mrs. Gray. "There are very few in the lives of the General that have been written. The life of Washington is the history of his country, and those who write about him seldom tell such stories as children like to hear."

"I was thinking of one story, Miss Sophie," said Tony, "when you was a telling little miss about the nets for the herring. You've heerd of the Sweet Springs down here in Virginia, where the ladies go in summer. Before the General was married, he used to go there every year for a while, and so did all the quality round; but it wasn't only the quality. The Springs were reckoned that good, that poor people would sell their clothes to get there; and then they had nothing to eat. Many of them lived in wretched little huts in the woods, so that they might drink the water and get well. The rich people did not fare very well; and every year a French baker went up there, and made a fortune selling bread and cake.

It was curious to see the servants come with their big baskets every morning, all dressed in velvet and gold lace; but there were a great many poor folks, too,-yellow-looking folks, that could hardly expect to get well. Jes before the war, there was an old farmer from Western Pennsylvany went up to the Springs to get cured of a rheumatis'. He hadn't sent no word beforehand, and he couldn't get no lodging; so he was glad to get on with a mattress in the baker's hut."

"Didn't they have hotels?" said Patty.

"There were only taverns in those days,” said Mrs. Gray, answering for Tony; "the poor people built log huts, and the rich built or hired a few cottages, only fit for the hot weather."

"The old farmer used to watch the boys coming for their bread," continued Tony; "but he saw that while they paid for their bread in silver, there were a lot of poor white trash who jes came in, nodded to the baker, and went away with the very best bread without paying anything. At last he thought Stophel, the baker, must be a fool, and so he told him.

"Why am I a fool?' said the baker.

"Because you give away the best part of your bread,' said the farmer.

"Not I,' said the baker; it is Cunnel Washington. He says these poor folks are sure to lose their lives, and they mustn't be let lose money, too. Last year, when he went away, he paid me eighty dollars for the bread such folks had taken.""

Patty's eyes were full of tears. Her active little brain had already drawn the picture of the summer woods, the sparkling waters, and the gay carriages, among which Washington rode proudly on his spirited horse. She saw the baker's hut, the long board on a couple of barrels that was his finest counter, and the rough old farmer, watching the poor creatures who carried away the bread.

"How much trouble he took!" she said, at last.

"I am glad you see that," said her mother. "I always respect those who refuse to give to idle beggars at the door, yet take a great deal of trouble to find the worthy poor in their own homes."

"The baker said, as those poor folks didn't know the Cunnel by sight," said Tony.

Patty did not seem to have anything to say, and Tony went on :

"Down here in Virginny they didn't care much about the soldier, little missy; it was the man. He was always busy: there was never a farm in the State bore so much as his, when he was alive to look after it. They say his men didn't think more of the battles he gained than of a stone he sent skipping along the river in York State, where not another man could do it. He never spared trouble if a thing ought to be done. There was an old English soldier left alive after Braddock's defeat. He had been the General's servant, and Washington took him back to Mount Vernon with him. By and by he married, and Washington built him a house. He never seemed to know what to do after the fighting was over; but he lived long after the General, and I've heard my mother say that all the children in the county used to go and sit on the bench outside his door, to hear him tell about fighting the Indians."

ee Was your

said Patty.

mother born at Mount Vernon?"

"No," said Tony. "She belonged to one of

the Fairfax places, about six miles off; but she could tell many a story about Lady Washington."

"Where is the old soldier's place now?" said

Patty.

"Minnie lives in it," said Tony.

"Miss SoShall I go off to Minnie's now, or will you like a look at the old place first?"

phie, we're just outside the avenue.

"Can you get down to the foot of the bank?" said Mrs. Gray. "If we could drive up from the landing, Patty would see the place as most strangers see it for the first time."

So Tony whipped up his horse, and they twisted out of the half frozen ruts, and drove over the cold grass a little way, till Tony turned entirely round, and got into a narrow track, which led to the little wharf where the summer steamer stops. Then Patty looked up with eager eyes. The first thing she saw was a rough arch of stones starting out of the high bank at the foot of the lawn. It was shaded with large trees, and a fence ran across the top. The arch itself was choked with bushes. Patty thought she had often seen a culvert under a