servants now. Lundy and two or three of his boys hang round the place, but we wait upon ourselves."

"That is best," said Mrs. Gray; for she knew that Miss Brittania did not ask for sympathy.

On the piano, under the picture, was a sword. Patty was looking at it carefully. It had been cleaned lately, but she could see that it was very old.

"Was it Washington's?" she said, creeping close to her mother.

Mrs. Gray looked at her friend, who started a little, and said,

"Yes; he left it to my grandfather, and told him to use it to defend his country. Keep it unsheathed,' he said. 'Fall on it, or with it, rather than yield it to the enemy.' My son died with it in his hand."

"Did he mean Virginia, when he said his country?" asked Patty, innocently.

"We thought so," answered the lady.

Patty had eaten her gingerbread with relish, for the early drive in the cold air had made her hungry. Now she looked up at the little girl, who mutely offered her a glass of water.

The child's face was still more like Lady Washington's than her mother's. Her dress was scanty and patched, but her long brown hair shone, and her hands were very soft and clean. "I should know she was a lady," was what Patty said to herself.

In another moment she looked up at her mother, and said,

"Would it hurt Miss Brittania if I told her what I think?"

Poor mamma! but she had not time to be distressed. The beautiful Southern courtesy was all there, ready to help.

"I am sure you could not hurt me, my dear little girl. What is it that you think?" answered the lady.

Patty paused a moment; she wanted to be sure of her words; and then she said,

"Mamma says Washington was a 'gift of God,' and that I ought to love him very much; but I never did like him. I used to hate the story about the hatchet, at school. Any boy could have done that; and a great many men could have fought all those battles. tell me something better?"

Can't you

A beautiful smile flashed over the lady's face. "I suppose you and Willie would tell papa the truth as quickly as George Washington," she said, "and no one talks about it when you do. The story of the hatchet used to be told to our little children because the General grew up so much more true than other men. See if this is something better. After he went to Mount Vernon to live, he raised wheat and tobacco on his farm. There was a little wharf by the riverside, and there he marked his crops, and vessels came and carried them away to the West Indies. When they got there after the very first — they were never looked at. The British officers valued them by the General's own mark."

"Oh, that is nice," said Patty; "he must have been good a long while, to be trusted like that."

"Tell her more," said Mrs. Gray, taking her friend's hand; and she drew Brittania's handsome child to her own knee.

A strange look passed over the lady's face. She hesitated a moment, and then said,

"Do you like General Grant?"

Patty colored. A bright light shone in her

eyes, and she looked at the little girl on her mother's knee.

"I like General Lee," said the child.

"And I like General Grant," said Patty, softly, but hesitating no longer.

The lady smiled. "I have heard a great many things about Grant that make me think of Washington," she said. "Now I will tell you a story about Washington that will make you think of Grant. When the General went to live at Mount Vernon, he went to a little country church. It was a shabby little place, about seven miles from his house, and in a little while the people wanted a new one. Some of them wanted to build another in the same spot; but Washington said, no! that the church ought to be moved about two miles, for it stood so far from some of the people's homes as to make it quite unfair. Then he drew a map of the whole country, just as he used to do when he was a surveyor. He put down all the houses, and marked the spot where the new church ought to be. The people were very much excited about the change. The church stood in a little graveyard, and a Mr. Mason came to the meet

ing which was to decide it all, and made a grand speech about the graves of their forefathers.' Washington went up to the table, and said not a word; he only laid down his map. That settled it!"

"Thank you!" said Patty, earnestly; "that was just like Grant." She was silent a few moments, looking with wonder at the lady; then she said,

"I don't believe I could be as good as you are. If I had known a pretty story about Stonewall Jackson, I don't believe I would have told it. Mayn't I kiss your little girl?"

At that moment a boy's voice shouted, "Sister!" The little thing dropped off Mrs. Gray's knee, and was gone.