with large lamps, which stood in front on the pavement near the street, marked it, in conjunction with its whole external aspect, as the abode of opulence and respectability before he became its august tenant. No market-house then stood in the street. To the east, a brick wall, six or seven feet high, ran well on towards Fifth Street, until it met other houses. The wall enclosed a garden which was shaded by lofty old trees, and ran back to what is now Minor Street, fronting upon which were the stables. All is now gone. Not a trace is left of that once venerable and stately residence, for it had intrinsically something of the latter characteristic by its detached situation, and the space left around it for accommodation on all sides. To the west no building adjoined it, the nearest house in that direction standing at a fair distance from it, at the corner of Sixth and Market Streets, where lived Robert Morris, one of the great men of the Revolution and the well known friend of Washington. What hallowed recollections did not that neighborhood awaken! The career of Washington, his consummate wisdom, his transcendent services, his full-orbed glory! Let no future Plutarch, said one of his biographers, attempt a parallel. stands alone. In the annals of time, it is recorded as the single glory of Republican America to have given to the world such an example of human excellence. History has consecrated it to the instruc

He

tion of mankind; and happy if Republican America shall hold to the maxims which he bequeathed to her in a Paper, pronounced by an eminent English historian, to be unequalled by any composition of uninspired wisdom.

In Holland there is still to be seen the building, small and shed-like as it is, carefully kept in its original state, in which Peter the Great of Russia lived whilst working in the naval Dock Yard at Sardam in 1697; but I could find no vestige of the Philadelphia domicil of Washington, relatively recent as was the day when his living presence sanctified it. In this city, he lived longer than he ever did in any part of the United States, his own Virginia excepted. Disappointed, almost saddened, I next turned down Sixth Street to take a look at old Congress Hall, at the corner of that street and Chestnut Street. There it still was, now used as a court-house; changed in outward appearance and still more within. Gazing upon it, I recalled a scene never to be forgotten. It was, I think, in 1794 or '95, that as a boy I was among the spectators congregated at that corner and parts close by, to witness a great public spectacle. Washington was to open the session of Congress by going in person, as was his custom, to deliver a speech to both houses assembled in the chamber of the House of Representatives. The crowd was immense considering the size of our city; for although then the

largest in the country, its population was perhaps hardly more than forty-five thousand. It filled the whole area in Chestnut Street before the StateHouse, extended along the line of Chestnut Street above Sixth Street, and spread north and south some distance along Sixth Street. A way kept open for carriages in the middle of the street, was the only space not closely packed with people. I had a stand on the steps of one of the houses in Chestnut Street, which, raising me above the mass of human heads, enabled me to see to advantage. After waiting long hours, as it seemed to a boy's impatience, the carriage of the President at length slowly drove up, drawn by four beautiful bay horses. It was white, with medallion ornaments on the panels, and the livery of the servants, as well as I remember, white turned up with red; at any rate, a glowing livery; the entire display in equipages at that era, in our country generally, and in Philadelphia in particular while the seat of government, being more rich and varied than now, though fewer in number. Washington got out of his carriage and, slowly crossing the pavement, ascended the steps of the edifice, upon the upper one of which he paused, and, turning half round, looked in the direction of a carriage which had followed the lead of his own. Thus he stood, for a minute; distinctly seen by everybody. He stood in all his civic dignity. His costume was a full suit of black

velvet; his hair, in itself blanched by time, powdered to snow whiteness, a dress sword at his side, and his hat held in his hand. Thus he stood in silence; and what moments those were! Throughout the dense crowd, profound stillness reigned. Not a word was heard. It was a feeling beyond that which vents itself in shouts. Every heart was full. In vain would any tongue have spoken. All were at gaze, in mute admiration. Every eye was riveted on his majestic form. It might have seemed as if he stood in that position to gratify the assembled thousands with a full view of the

father of their country. Not so. He had paused for his secretary, then I believe Mr. Dandridge or Colonel Lear, who got out of the other carriagea chariot-decorated like his own. His secretary, ascending the steps, handed him a paper-probably a copy of the speech he was to deliver-when both entered the building. Then it was, and not until then, that the crowd set up huzzas, loud, long, and enthusiastic.

I return to Market Street. On the north side of the way, nearly opposite to General Washington's residence, lived William Bradford. He was among the most gifted men Pennsylvania has produced, an honor and ornament to the State. Cut off in the year '95 at the early age of thirty-nine, in the midst of public honors and usefulness, his memory is still fondly cherished by those who had the good

fortune to know him. He was an able lawyer. More than this: his mind, by its enlargement, was able to rise to the vantage ground of jurisprudence, and survey its broadest principles, as the noblest of human sciences practically applicable to mankind. Amongst the testimonials of so expanded an understanding, was his treatise on capital punishments; a work written at the request of Governor Mifflin, and intended for the use of the Legislature of Pennsylvania, in the nature of a Report, when that subject was first under consideration in that body. He had, before that time, been Attorney General of Pennsylvania. To abilities of the first order as a lawyer, he added the accomplishments of a scholar and orator, the zeal of a patriot, and the virtues of a man and gentleman. Such qualities did not escape the notice of Washington, proverbially correct in his insight into the characters of men; and accordingly, on the advancement of Mr. Edmund Randolph to the office of Secretary of State, he called Mr. Bradford to the post of Attorney General of the United States. He was married to the daughter and only child of the Honorable Elias Boudinot, a distinguished citizen of New Jersey, a patriot of the Revolution, and one of the Presidents of Congress during the Confederation. This estimable pair won upon the esteem of the Washington family; and the official intercourse which Mr. Bradford necessarily had with the Presi