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steps. The Professor's wife stood there with her happy baby in her arms, and Patty ran for a last kiss. The Professor had gone away the day before.

As soon as Mrs. Gray took the reins, the dark donkey started off at a brisk trot. Patty thought he went faster than the tall horse they used at Spring Vale. Her mother smiled at her surprise, and told her that donkeys were only stupid when they were abused.

It was a lovely morning. Over the tops of the trees the white balconies of the Capitol were gleaming, and the dark towers of the Smithsonian cut the clear blue sky, as the donkey turned away from the door. As they drove gayly down the wide avenue it seemed to Patty that everybody was in the street. She had no time to ask questions, for almost as soon as they started, Mrs. Gray said,

"Patty, Miss Brittania is a great-granddaughter of Mrs. Washington. After I went to the Quaker Schools, yesterday, I took a carriage and went over to see her. When I remembered my own visit to Mount Vernon, it seemed to me very sad that you should go there and see only the

bare walls, where I had seen beautiful pictures, and vases, and queer furniture. I knew you would be disappointed, and it seemed to me that the only thing I could do was to show you the few things that are to be found in private houses in this neighborhood; and when you go to Arlington and Mount Vernon, your active little brain will have to carry the furniture back, and imagine how it looked."

"Thank you, mamma,” said Patty; "but I thought that when the ladies bought Mount Vernon, they would keep it as it used to be, and it would always be nice."

"So it ought, Patty," said her mother, smiling a little at the child's dreary tone; "but it does not seem to be so; and Mr. Lossing says that when the war broke out, everything was carried away and hidden. I think all the furniture that was there when the place was bought should have remained. If the family had really loved the place, the ladies need not have bought it."

"The family don't love anything,” said Patty. "It was General Lee himself that owned Arlington, and there wasn't a single Washington fighting for the North- was there, mamma?"

"No," said Mrs. Gray; "I believe not."

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How sad it seems!" said Patty, thoughtfully. "Can Washington know, mamma? It would make him so sad! for you know when the British came to his place and threatened it, and the man who had the care of it gave them some corn, he said he would rather hear that his house had been burned to the ground."

"Yes," said Mrs. Gray, "I remember; that was in 1781; and when the British came again in 1814, it was a granddaughter of Mrs. Washington that sheltered and fed them, and named her daughter Brittania for their sakes."

"Was that your Miss Brittania, mamma?” said Patty, in horror.

"Yes," said Mrs. Gray; "she was a pupil of mine, when I lived in Georgetown. I thought I had better not see her when I found that she had lost her husband and young son in the rebellion; but when I called yesterday, and she heard of you, she was as tender and loving as if I were a Southern woman, and said at once that she would send the donkey for you." "I thought Lundy called her Miss Brittania,” said Patty.

"So he did," said Mrs. Gray; "the slaves always called their mistresses by the name they first knew; and Lundy was a slave."

"Mamma," said Patty, "I don't see how she could want to see me. Don't she know you hate slavery and rebels? Do these Southern women care for these things as we do, mamma?"

"For some things they care even more,” said Mrs. Gray. "As we go farther South, you will have a chance to see for yourself. Women do most things with their whole hearts; and I don't suppose you love the North better than Miss Brittania loved Virginia; and she would not imagine that a little girl like you could possibly care for either; so keep as quiet as you can.”

"Not care!" said Patty, starting up in her seat so suddenly that mamma caught at the little gray dress, to save her from going over, er 'not care! Why, mamma, what do you

mean?"

"I mean that Southern ladies do not talk to their little girls as papa and I talk to you, Patty, or as many mothers at the North talk to their children. Miss Brittania has one little daughter; you will see what she has to say."

They had crossed the bridge over "Rock Creek." In another moment the little cart had cut round the corner; and as the spirited little donkey rattled up the hill, Patty saw the gay peacocks, cut in the hedge at the corners of Colonel Washington's terrace.

Still up-up-a short run over the heights, and the donkey turned into a carriage drive. It ran over an ill-kept lawn, large, and well sprinkled with trees.

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In a few moments they drew up before the house, a long, low building, with a piazza about it, where there was room enough for two or three families to live comfortably together.

Patty thought it did not look very nice. The paint was washed away from the building in long, dingy streaks; the gates were off their hinges, and the paths through the little flower garden were covered with the fallen leaves.

The tidy little Patty said something about all this.

"It is the old Peters' place," said Mrs. Gray. "When I was a girl, I would not come here to visit, because the old lady was still living who had entertained the soldiers who came to burn

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