dent, was followed by their both becoming participants, not merely of the dinner hospitalities and drawing-room entertainments of their illustrious neighbors, but the sharers of a social intimacy more endearing as well as gratifying. At that memorable epoch, the French Revolution was raging. Its first shocks seemed to be unhinging the world. Its magnificent promises and early deeds of freedom, the romantic and triumphant valor of millions of armed Frenchmen in that cause, who rushed to battle under the inspiring chorus of the Marseilles Hymn; with all the horrors that came afterwards, were natural and frequent topics at the fireside of Washington; and no single incident among the group of events, was ever called up with more intensity of interest than the doom of Lafayette, then a prisoner in the dominions of the Emperor of Austria. One evening, when Mr. Bradford was there, and no company; none present but the family circle, consisting of the General, and Mrs. Washington, his private secretary, with young Custis and his accomplished sisters; and the conversation going on with the wonted dignity and ease of that illustrious circle, the sufferings of La Fayette again became the theme. Washington, as he dwelt upon them, in contrast with the former fortunes and splendid merits of Fayette in our cause, and recalling scenes also that awoke anew the warmth of his friend ship for him, became greatly affected. His whole nature seemed melted. His eyes were suffused. Mr. Bradford saw it all; and what a spectacle to be witnessed by a man whose own bosom was open to every generous impulse! If the great Condé, at the representation of one of Corneille's tragedies, shed tears at the part where Cæsar is made to utter a fine sentiment, what was that, in its power to stir the soul, though Voltaire has so emblazoned it, to tears shed by WASHINGTON over the real woes of LAFAYETTE! Washington-a nation's founder, and Lafayette, his heroic friend, who had crossed an ocean to fight the battles of liberty by his side? Tears, tears they were, fit for the first of heroes to have shed! Going home in the pensive tone of mind which a scene so moving, at the fireside of Washington, had created, Mr. Bradford sat down and wrote the following simple but touching little stanzas, the off-hand gushings from the heart of a man of sensibility and genius. As beside his cheerful fire, Sat a venerable sire, Tears were starting in his eye; Selfish blessings were forgot, Whilst he thought on Fayette's lot. Once so happy on our plains, THE LAMENT OF WASHINGTON. Fayette, cried he, honored name! Dear to these far distant shores, Soldiers on our fields of death, Hapless Fayette! midst thine error, What reward for all remains, Born to honors, ease and wealth, At his country's glorious call. Thus with laurels on his brow, EXILE, POVERTY, and CHAINS! The distinguished visitor of the illustrious family circle, yielding to the flush of his feelings, had ventured, so far, to express, in his own form of metre, the lamentation heard from the lips of Washington. Warmed by the theme, and giving way to the hope of Lafayette's final liberation, he closes with the following invocation to the suffering prisoner and exile, in a strain hopeful and animating: Courage, child of Washington! Though thy fate disastrous seems, We have seen the setting sun, Rise and burn with brighter beams. Thy country soon shall break thy chain, It must be borne in mind that the foregoing lines were not written for publication. The publication, however, may now well be excused as historically bringing to light, from the sleep of half a century, the incident which they embody from the domestic hours of Washington; for will not Americans forever welcome, with increasing reverence and affection, whatever may be new to them in the domestic life of the great founder of their empire? The lines were the impromptu outpouring of a feeling mind impressed with the scene of moral beauty and deep pathos, which he had just witnessed. As far as I know, they have never been in print before. Private copies passed from hand to hand at the time they were written; and sometimes they were sung, with the accompaniment of the piano or harp, to the plaintive dirge composed on the occasion of the execution of the Queen of France, current in Philadelphia circles after that melancholy tragedy. It is known that Washington continued to the last to manifest a keen sensibility to Lafayette's situation; nor did he content himself with passive regrets. Our ministers at European courts were instructed to avail themselves of every proper opportunity for expressing the interest which the President took in his fate; and to employ the most eligible means in their power to obtain his liberty or mitigate his hardships. When he was transferred to the dungeon in Austria, the autograph letter which he finally wrote to the Emperor of Germany to procure his liberation, though it failed of its purpose at the time, will remain as a model of dignity and high feeling, proclaiming to crowned heads how harmoniously friendship and humanity can be made to blend with the duties of chief magistracy, when their just voice was uttered by Washington. This sketch would be more imperfect than it is, without a few concluding words of one of the personages belonging to the group. The widow of Mr. Bradford still lives, in an ancient town on the banks of the Delaware, a beautiful relic of the days here recalled; her house the abode of hospi |