Chapter XVIII

His final Return home.--Wreck of his Fortunes.--Letter to Mr.
Eppes.--To his Grand-daughter, Mrs. Bankhead.--To Kosciusko.--
Description of the Interior of the House at Monticello.--Of the
View from Monticello.--Jefferson's Grandson's Description of
his Manners and Appearance.--Anecdotes.--His Habits.--Letter to
Governor Langdon.--To Governor Tyler.--Life at Monticello, and
Sketch of Jefferson by a Grand-daughter.--Reminiscences of him
by another Grand-daughter.

Full of years and full of honors, we behold, then, the veteran statesman attaining at last the goal of his wishes. Joyfully received into the arms of his family, Jefferson returned home, fondly hoping to pass in tranquillity the evening of an eventful and honorable life surrounded by those he loved best, and from whom he was never again to be parted except by death. His whole demeanor betokened the feelings of one who had been relieved of a heavy and wearisome burden. His family noticed the elasticity of his step while engaged in his private apartments arranging his books and papers, and not unfrequently heard him humming a favorite air, or singing snatches of old songs which had been almost forgotten since the days of his youth. But, alas! who can control his destiny? Who can foresee the suffering to be endured? It required but a brief sojourn at home, and a thorough investigation of his affairs, for Jefferson to see that his long-continued absence had told fearfully on the value of his farms; that his long enlistment in the service of his country had been his pecuniary ruin. The state of his feelings on this subject is painfully shown in the following extract from a letter written by him to Kosciusko:

_To Thaddeus Kosciusko._

Instead of the unalloyed happiness of retiring unembarrassed
and independent to the enjoyment of my estate, which is ample
for my limited views, I have to pass such a length of time in
a thraldom of mind never before known to me. Except for this,
my happiness would have been perfect. That yours may never know
disturbance, and that you may enjoy as many years of life,
health, and ease as yourself shall wish, is the sincere prayer
of your constant and affectionate friend.

Towards the close of the year 1809 we find him writing to his son-in-law, Mr. Eppes, then in Washington, as follows:

_To John W. Eppes._

I should sooner have informed you of Francis's safe arrival
here, but that the trip you meditated to North Carolina rendered
it entirely uncertain where a letter would find you. Nor had
I any expectation you could have been at the first meeting of
Congress, till I saw your name in the papers brought by our last
post. Disappointed in sending this by the return of the post, I
avail myself of General Clarke's journey to Washington for its
conveyance. Francis has enjoyed perfect and constant health, and
is as happy as the day is long. He has had little success as yet
with either his traps or bow and arrows. He is now engaged in a
literary contest with his cousin, Virginia, both having begun
to write together. As soon as he gets to _z_ (being now only at
_h_) he promises you a letter.

The following to his oldest grandchild shows how completely Jefferson had thrown off the cares and thoughts of public life and plunged into the sweets and little enjoyments of a quiet country life.

_To Mrs. Anne C. Bankhead._

Monticello, Dec. 29th, 1809.

My dear Anne--Your mamma has given me a letter to inclose to
you, but whether it contains any thing contraband I know not. Of
that the responsibility must be on her; I therefore inclose it.
I suppose she gives you all the small news of the place--such
as the race in writing between Virginia and Francis, that the
wild geese are well after a flight of a mile and a half into
the river, that the plants in the green-house prosper, etc.,
etc. _A propos_ of plants, make a thousand acknowledgments to
Mrs. Bankhead for the favor proposed of the Cape jessamine.
It will be cherished with all the possible attentions; and in
return proffer her calycanthuses, pecans, silk-trees, Canada
martagons, or any thing else we have. Mr. Bankhead, I suppose,
is seeking a merry Christmas in all the wit and merriments of
Coke upon Littleton. God send him a good deliverance! Such is
the usual prayer for those standing at the bar. Deliver to
Mary my kisses, and tell her I have a present from one of her
acquaintances, Miss Thomas, for her--the minutest gourd ever
seen, of which I send her a draught in the margin. What is to
become of our flowers? I left them so entirely to yourself, that
I never knew any thing about them, what they are, where they
grow, what is to be done for them. You must really make out a
book of instructions for Ellen, who has fewer cares in her head
than I have. Every thing shall be furnished on my part at her
call. Present my friendly respects to Dr. and Mrs. Bankhead.
My affectionate attachment to Mr. Bankhead and yourself, not
forgetting Mary.

TH. JEFFERSON.

We find in a letter written by Jefferson to Kosciusko (Feb. 26th, 1810) an interesting account of his habits of daily life. He writes:

_To Thaddeus Kosciusko._

My mornings are devoted to correspondence. From breakfast to
dinner I am in my shops, my garden, or on horseback among my
farms; from dinner to dark, I give to society and recreation
with my neighbors and friends; and from candle-light to
early bed-time I read. My health is perfect, and my strength
considerably reinforced by the activity of the course I pursue;
perhaps it is as great as usually falls to the lot of near
sixty-seven years of age. I talk of ploughs and harrows, of
seeding and harvesting with my neighbors, and of politics
too, if they choose, with as little reserve as the rest of my
fellow-citizens, and feel, at length, the blessing of being free
to say and do what I please without being responsible for it to
any mortal. A part of my occupation, and by no means the least
pleasing, is the direction of the studies of such young men as
ask it. They place themselves in the neighboring village, and
have the use of my library and counsel, and make a part of my
society. In advising the course of their reading, I endeavor to
keep their attention fixed on the main objects of all science,
the freedom and happiness of man. So that, coming to bear a
share in the councils and government of their country, they will
keep ever in view the sole objects of all legitimate government.

I now give a description of the interior of the mansion at Monticello, which was prepared for me by a member of Mr. Jefferson's family, who lived there for many years:

The mansion, externally, is of the Doric order of Grecian
architecture, with its heavy cornice and massive balustrades,
its public rooms finished in the Ionic. The front hall of
entrance recedes six feet within the front wall of the building,
covered by a portico the width of the recess, projecting
twenty-five feet, and the height of the house, with stone
pillars and steps. The hall is also the height of the house.
From about midway of this room, passages lead off to either
extremity of the building. The rooms at the extremity of these
passages terminate in octagonal projections, leaving a recess of
three equal sides, into which the passages enter; piazzas the
width of this recess, projecting six feet beyond, their roofs
the height of the house, and resting on brick arches, cover the
recesses. The northern one connects the house with the public
terrace, while the southern is sashed in for a green-house.
To the east of these passages, on each side of the hall, are
lodging-rooms. This front is one-and-a-half stories. The west
front the rooms occupy the whole height, making the house one
story, except the parlor or central room, which is surmounted
by an octagonal story, with a dome or spherical roof. This was
designed for a billiard-room; but, before completion, a law was
passed prohibiting public and private billiard-tables in the
State. It was to have been approached by stairways connected
with a gallery at the inner extremity of the hall, which itself
forms the communication between the lodging-rooms on either side
above. The use designed for the room being prohibited, these
stairways were never erected, leaving in this respect a great
deficiency in the house.

1. Mr. Madison's room.
2. Abbé Correa's room.
3. Turning Buffet.
4. Niche in tea-room, intended for a statue.
5. Jefferson's chair and candle-stand.
6. Mrs. Randolph's harpsichord.
7. Globes.
8. Work-bench.
9. Couch on which Jefferson reclined while studying.
10. Jefferson's dressing-table and mirror.
11. A convenient contrivance on which to hang clothes.
12. Jefferson's chair, with a small book-case near it.
13. Great clock over the hall-door.
14. Reclining statue of Ariadne.
15. Gallery connecting the upper stories of the house.

PORTRAITS.

_a._ Americus Vespucius.
_b._ Columbus.
_c._ Locke.
_d._ Bacon.
_e._ Washington.
_f._ Adams.
_g._ Franklin.
_h._ Madison.

16. Bust of Napoleon.
17. Ceracchi's Bust of Jefferson.
18. Bust of Hamilton.
19. Bust of Voltaire.
20. Bust of Turgot.
21. Bust of Alexander, Emperor of Russia.]

The parlor projects twenty feet beyond the body of the
house, covered by a portico one story, and surmounted by the
billiard-room. The original plan of the projection was square;
but when the cellar was built up to the floor above, the room
was projected beyond the square by three sides of an octagon,
leaving a place beyond the cellar-wall not excavated, and it
was in this space that the faithful Cæsar and Martin concealed
their master's plate when the British visited Monticello.[57]
The floor of this room is in squares, the squares being ten
inches, of the wild cherry, very hard, susceptible of a high
polish, and the color of mahogany. The border of each square,
four inches wide, is of beech, light-colored, hard, and bearing
a high polish. Its original cost was two hundred dollars. After
nearly seventy years of use and abuse, a half-hour's dusting
and brushing will make it compare favorably with the handsomest
tessellated floor.

[57] See page 56.

From the same pen are the following graphic descriptions of the views seen from Monticello:

Monticello is five hundred and eighty feet high. It slopes
eastward one-and-a-half miles by a gentle declivity to the
Rivanna River. Half a mile beyond is Shadwell, the birthplace
of Jefferson, a beautiful spot overlooking the river. The
northeastern side of the mountain and slope is precipitous,
having dashed aside the countless floods of the Rivanna through
all the tide of time.

On the southwest, it is separated from the next mountain of
the range, rising three hundred feet above it, by a road-pass
two hundred and twenty feet below. This obstructs the view
to the southwest. From the southwest to the northeast is a
horizon unbroken, save by one solitary, pyramid-shaped mountain,
its peak under the true meridian, and distant by air-line
forty-seven miles. Northeast the range pointing to the west
terminates two miles off, its lateral spurs descending by gentle
slopes to the Rivanna at your feet, covered with farms and green
wheat-fields. This view of farms extends northeast and east six
or seven miles. You trace the Rivanna by its cultivated valley
as it passes east, apparently through an unbroken forest; an
inclined plane descends from your feet to the ocean two hundred
miles distant. All the western and northwestern slopes being
poor, and the eastern and southeastern fertile, as the former
are presented to the spectator, and are for the most part in
wood, it presents the appearance of unbroken forest, bounded by
an ocean-like horizon.

Turn now and look from the north to the west. You stand at the
apex of a triangle, the water-shed of the Rivanna, the opposite
side, at the base of the Blue Ridge, forty miles in length;
its perpendicular twenty, descending five hundred feet to the
base of your position, where the Rivanna concentrates its muddy
waters over an artificial cascade, marked by its white line of
foam.

West and southwest, the space between the Southwest Mountains
and the Blue Ridge is filled by irregular mountains, the nearer
known as the Ragged Mountains. At the northeast base of these,
distant two and three miles, are Charlottesville and the
University of Virginia, forming nuclei connected by a scattered
village. From west to northeast no mountain interposes between
your position and the base of the Blue Ridge, which sinks below
the horizon eighty or one hundred miles distant. Two mountains
only are seen northeast--one ten, the other forty miles off. The
country, ascending from your position, and presenting to you its
fertile slopes, gives the view of one highly cultivated. The
railroad train is traced ten miles. This is the view so much
admired.

The top of the mountain has been levelled by art. This space
is six hundred by two hundred feet, circular at each end. The
mountain slopes gently on every side from this lawn; one hundred
feet from the eastern end stands the mansion. Its projecting
porticoes, east and west, with the width of the house, occupy
one hundred feet each way. It approaches on either hand within
fifty feet of the brow of the mountain, with which it is
connected by covered ways ten feet wide, whose floors are level
with the cellars, and whose flat roofs, forming promenades,
are nearly level with the first floor of the dwelling. These,
turning at right angles at the brow, and widening to twenty
feet, extend one hundred feet, and terminate in one-story
pavilions twenty feet square, the space beneath these terraces
forming basement offices. From this northern terrace the view
is sublime; and here Jefferson and his company were accustomed
to sit, bare-headed, in the summer until bed-time, having
neither dew nor insects to annoy them. Here, perhaps, has been
assembled more love of liberty, virtue, wisdom, and learning
than on any other private spot in America.

Jefferson's grandson, Colonel Jefferson Randolph, writes of his appearance and manners thus:

His manners were of that polished school of the Colonial
Government, so remarkable in its day--under no circumstances
violating any of those minor conventional observances which
constitute the well-bred gentleman, courteous and considerate to
all persons. On riding out with him when a lad, we met a negro
who bowed to us; he returned his bow; I did not. Turning to me,
he asked,

"Do you permit a negro to be more of a gentleman than yourself?"

Mr. Jefferson's hair, when young, was of a reddish cast; sandy
as he advanced in years; his eye, hazel. Dying in his 84th year,
he had not lost a tooth, nor had one defective; his skin thin,
peeling from his face on exposure to the sun, and giving it a
tettered appearance; the superficial veins so weak, as upon the
slightest blow to cause extensive suffusions of blood--in early
life, upon standing to write for any length of time, bursting
beneath the skin; it, however, gave him no inconvenience. His
countenance was mild and benignant, and attractive to strangers.

While President, returning on horseback from Charlottesville
with company whom he had invited to dinner, and who were, all
but one or two, riding ahead of him, on reaching a stream over
which there was no bridge, a man asked him to take him up behind
him and carry him over. The gentlemen in the rear coming up just
as Mr. Jefferson had put him down and ridden on, asked the man
how it happened that he had permitted the others to pass without
asking them? He replied,

"From their looks, I did not like to ask them; the old gentleman
looked as if he would do it, and I asked him."

He was very much surprised to hear that he had ridden behind the
President of the United States.

Mr. Jefferson's stature was commanding--six feet two-and-a-half
inches in height, well formed, indicating strength, activity,
and robust health; his carriage erect; step firm and elastic,
which he preserved to his death; his temper, naturally strong,
under perfect control; his courage cool and impassive. No one
ever knew him exhibit trepidation. His moral courage of the
highest order--his will firm and inflexible--it was remarked of
him that he never abandoned a plan, a principle, or a friend.

A bold and fearless rider, you saw at a glance, from his easy
and confident seat, that he was master of his horse, which was
usually the fine blood-horse of Virginia. The only impatience of
temper he ever exhibited was with his horse, which he subdued to
his will by a fearless application of the whip on the slightest
manifestation of restiveness. He retained to the last his
fondness for riding on horseback; he rode within three weeks of
his death, when, from disease, debility, and age, he mounted
with difficulty. He rode with confidence, and never permitted
a servant to accompany him; he was fond of solitary rides and
musing, and said that the presence of a servant annoyed him.

He held in little esteem the education which made men ignorant
and helpless as to the common necessities of life; and he
exemplified it by an incident which occurred to a young
gentleman returned from Europe, where he had been educated. On
riding out with his companions, the strap of his girth broke at
the hole for the buckle; and they, perceiving it an accident
easily remedied, rode on and left him. A plain man coming up,
and seeing that his horse had made a circular path in the road
in his impatience to get on, asked if he could aid him.

"Oh, sir," replied the young man, "if you could only assist me
to get it up to the next hole."

"Suppose you let it out a hole or two on the other side," said
the man.

His habits were regular and systematic. He was a miser of his
time, rose always at dawn, wrote and read until breakfast,
breakfasted early, and dined from three to four ... ; retired
at nine, and to bed from ten to eleven. He said, in his last
illness, that the sun had not caught him in bed for fifty years.

He always made his own fire. He drank water but once a day, a
single glass, when he returned from his ride. He ate heartily,
and much vegetable food, preferring French cookery, because it
made the meats more tender. He never drank ardent spirits or
strong wines. Such was his aversion to ardent spirits, that
when, in his last illness, his physician desired him to use
brandy as an astringent, he could not induce him to take it
strong enough.

In looking over his correspondence, I select the following extracts, which the reader will find most interesting:

_To Governor Langdon, March 5th, 1810._

While in Europe, I often amused myself with contemplating the
characters of the then reigning sovereigns of Europe. Louis the
XVI. was a fool, of my own knowledge, and despite of the answers
made for him at his trial. The King of Spain was a fool; and
of Naples, the same. They passed their lives in hunting, and
dispatched two couriers a week one thousand miles to let each
know what game they had killed the preceding days. The King
of Sardinia was a fool. All these were Bourbons. The Queen of
Portugal, a Braganza, was an idiot by nature; and so was the
King of Denmark. Their sons, as regents, exercised the powers
of government. The King of Prussia, successor to the great
Frederick, was a mere hog in body as well as in mind. Gustavus
of Sweden, and Joseph of Austria, were really crazy; and George
of England, you know, was in a strait-waistcoat. There remained,
then, none but old Catherine, who had been too lately picked up
to have lost her common sense. In this state Bonaparte found
Europe; and it was this state of its rulers which lost it with
scarce a struggle. These animals had become without mind and
powerless; and so will every hereditary monarch be after a few
generations. Alexander, the grandson of Catherine, is as yet an
exception. He is able to hold his own. But he is only of the
third generation. His race is not yet worn out. And so endeth
the book of Kings, from all of whom the Lord deliver us, and
have you, my friend, and all such good men and true, in his holy
keeping.

_To Governor Tyler, May 26th, 1810._

I have long lamented with you the depreciation of law science.
The opinion seems to be that Blackstone is to us what the
Alkoran is to the Mohammedans, that every thing which is
necessary is in him, and what is not in him is not necessary.
I still lend my counsel and books to such young students as
will fix themselves in the neighborhood. Coke's Institutes and
Reports are their first, and Blackstone their last book, after
an intermediate course of two or three years. It is nothing more
than an elegant digest of what they will then have acquired
from the real fountains of the law. Now men are born scholars,
lawyers, doctors; in our day this was confined to poets.

The following letters, containing such charming pictures of life at Monticello and of Jefferson's intercourse with his family, were written to Mr. Randall by one of Mr. Jefferson's grand-daughters:

My dear Mr. Randall--You seem possessed of so many facts and
such minute details of Mr. Jefferson's family life, that I
know not how I can add to the amount.... When he returned from
Washington, in 1809, I was a child, and of that period I have
childish recollections. He seemed to return to private life with
great satisfaction. At last he was his own master, and could, he
hoped, dispose of his time as he pleased, and indulge his love
of country life. You know how greatly he preferred it to town
life. You recollect, as far back as his "Notes on Virginia," he
says, "Those who labor in the earth are the chosen people of
God."

With regard to the tastes and wishes which he carried with him
into the country, his love of reading alone would have made
leisure and retirement delightful to him. Books were at all
times his chosen companions, and his acquaintance with many
languages gave him great power of selection. He read Homer,
Virgil, Dante, Corneille, Cervantes, as he read Shakspeare and
Milton. In his youth he had loved poetry, but by the time I was
old enough to observe, he had lost his taste for it, except for
Homer and the great Athenian tragics, which he continued to the
last to enjoy. He went over the works of Æschylus, Sophocles,
and Euripides, not very long before I left him (the year before
his death). Of history he was very fond, and this he studied in
all languages, though always, I think, preferring the ancients.
In fact, he derived more pleasure from his acquaintance with
Greek and Latin than from any other resource of literature, and
I have often heard him express his gratitude to his father for
causing him to receive a classical education. I saw him more
frequently with a volume of the classics in his hand than with
any other book. Still he read new publications as they came
out, never missed the new number of a review, especially of the
Edinburgh, and kept himself acquainted with what was being done,
said, or thought in the world from which he had retired.

He loved farming and gardening, the fields, the orchards, and
his asparagus-beds. Every day he rode through his plantation
and walked in his garden. In the cultivation of the last he
took great pleasure. Of flowers, too, he was very fond. One of
my early recollections is of the attention which he paid to
his flower-beds. He kept up a correspondence with persons in
the large cities, particularly, I think, in Philadelphia, for
the purpose of receiving supplies of roots and seeds both for
his kitchen and flower garden. I remember well, when he first
returned to Monticello, how immediately he began to prepare
new beds for his flowers. He had these beds laid off on the
lawn, under the windows, and many a time I have run after him
when he went out to direct the work, accompanied by one of his
gardeners, generally Wormley, armed with spade and hoe, while he
himself carried the measuring-line.

I was too young to aid him, except in a small way, but my
sister, Mrs. Bankhead, then a young and beautiful woman, was
his active and useful assistant. I remember the planting of the
first hyacinths and tulips, and their subsequent growth. The
roots arrived labelled, each one with a fancy name. There was
"Marcus Aurelius" and the "King of the Gold Mine," the "Roman
Empress" and the "Queen of the Amazons," "Psyche," the "God of
Love," etc., etc. Eagerly, and with childish delight, I studied
this brilliant nomenclature, and wondered what strange and
surprisingly beautiful creations I should see arising from the
ground when spring returned; and these precious roots were
committed to the earth under my grandfather's own eye, with his
beautiful grand-daughter Anne standing by his side, and a crowd
of happy young faces, of younger grandchildren, clustering round
to see the progress, and inquire anxiously the name of each
separate deposit.

Then, when spring returned, how eagerly we watched the first
appearance of the shoots above ground. Each root was marked
with its own name written on a bit of stick by its side; and
what joy it was for one of us to discover the tender green
breaking through the mould, and run to grandpapa to announce
that we really believed Marcus Aurelius was coming up, or the
Queen of the Amazons was above ground! With how much pleasure,
compounded of our pleasure and his own, on the new birth, he
would immediately go out to verify the fact, and praise us for
our diligent watchfulness.

Then, when the flowers were in bloom, and we were in ecstasies
over the rich purple and crimson, or pure white, or delicate
lilac, or pale yellow of the blossoms, how he would sympathize
with our admiration, or discuss with my mother and elder sister
new groupings and combinations and contrasts. Oh, these were
happy moments for us and for him!

It was in the morning, immediately after our early breakfast,
that he used to visit his flower-beds and his garden. As the
day, in summer, grew warmer, he retired to his own apartments,
which consisted of a bed-chamber and library opening into each
other. Here he remained until about one o'clock, occupied in
reading, writing, looking over papers, etc. My mother would
sometimes send me with a message to him. A gentle knock, a
call of "Come in," and I would enter, with a mixed feeling of
love and reverence, and some pride in being the bearer of a
communication to one whom I approached with all the affection
of a child, and something of the loyalty of a subject. Our
mother educated all her children to look up to her father, as
she looked up to him herself--literally looked up, as to one
standing on an eminence of greatness and goodness. And it is
no small proof of his real elevation that, as we grew older
and better able to judge for ourselves, we were more and more
confirmed in the opinions we had formed of it.

About one o'clock my grandfather rode out, and was absent,
perhaps, two hours; when he returned to prepare for his dinner,
which was about half-past three o'clock. He sat some time at
table, and after dinner returned for a while to his room, from
which he emerged before sunset to walk on the terrace or the
lawn, to see his grandchildren run races, or to converse with
his family and friends. The evenings, after candle-light, he
passed with us, till about ten o'clock. He had his own chair
and his own candle a little apart from the rest, where he sat
reading, if there were no guests to require his attention, but
often laying his book on his little round table or his knee,
while he talked with my mother, the elder members of the family,
or any child old enough to make one of the family-party. I
always did, for I was the most active and the most lively of
the young folks, and most wont to thrust myself forward into
notice....

----, 185-.

My dear Mr. Randall--With regard to Mr. Jefferson's conduct
and manners in his family, after I was old enough to form
any judgment of it, I can only repeat what I have said
before--and I say it calmly and advisedly, with no spirit of
false enthusiasm or exaggeration--I have never known anywhere,
under any circumstances, so good a domestic character as my
grandfather Jefferson's. I have the testimony of his sisters
and his daughter that he was, in all the relations of private
life, at all times, just what he was when I knew him. My mother
was ten years old when her mother died. Her impression was,
that her father's conduct as a husband had been admirable in
its ensemble, charming in its detail. She distinctly recalled
her mother's passionate attachment to him, and her exalted
opinion of him. On one occasion she heard her blaming him for
some generous acts which had met with an ungrateful return.
"But," she exclaimed, "it was always so with him; he is so good
himself, that he can not understand how bad other people may
be."...

On one occasion my mother had been punished for some fault, not
harshly nor unjustly, but in a way to make an impression. Some
little time after, her mother being displeased with her for some
trifle, reminded her in a slightly taunting way of this painful
past. She was deeply mortified, her heart swelled, her eyes
filled with tears, she turned away, but she heard her father say
in a kind tone to her mother, "My dear, a fault in so young a
child once punished should be forgotten." My mother told me she
could never forget the warm gush of gratitude that filled her
childish heart at these words, probably not intended for her
ear. These are trifling details, but they show character....

My grandfather's manners to us, his grandchildren, were
_delightful_; I can characterize them by no other word. He
talked with us freely, affectionately; never lost an opportunity
of giving a pleasure or a good lesson. He reproved without
wounding us, and commended without making us vain. He took
pains to correct our errors and false ideas, checked the
bold, encouraged the timid, and tried to teach us to reason
soundly and feel rightly. Our smaller follies he treated with
good-humored raillery, our graver ones with kind and serious
admonition. He was watchful over our manners, and called our
attention to every violation of propriety. He did not interfere
with our education, technically so called, except by advising us
what studies to pursue, what books to read, and by questioning
us on the books which we did read.

I was thrown most into companionship with him. I loved him very
devotedly, and sought every opportunity of being with him. As
a child, I used to follow him about, and draw as near to him
as I could. I remember when I was small enough to sit on his
knee and play with his watch-chain. As a girl, I would join
him in his walks on the terrace, sit with him over the fire
during the winter twilight, or by the open windows in summer.
As child, girl, and woman, I loved and honored him above all
earthly beings. And well I might. From him seemed to flow all
the pleasures of my life. To him I owed all the small blessings
and joyful surprises of my childish and girlish years. His
nature was so eminently sympathetic, that, with those he loved,
he could enter into their feelings, anticipate their wishes,
gratify their tastes, and surround them with an atmosphere of
affection.

I was fond of riding, and was rising above that childish
simplicity when, provided I was mounted on a horse, I cared
nothing for my equipments, and when an old saddle or broken
bridle were matters of no moment. I was beginning to be
fastidious, but I had never told my wishes. I was standing one
bright day in the portico, when a man rode up to the door with a
beautiful lady's saddle and bridle before him. My heart bounded.
These coveted articles were deposited at my feet. My grandfather
came out of his room to tell me they were mine.

When about fifteen years old, I began to think of a watch,
but knew the state of my father's finances promised no such
indulgence. One afternoon the letter-bag was brought in. Among
the letters was a small packet addressed to my grandfather.
It had the Philadelphia mark upon it. I looked at it with
indifferent, incurious eye. Three hours after, an elegant lady's
watch, with chain and seals, was in my hand, which trembled
for very joy. My Bible came from him, my Shakspeare, my first
writing-table, my first handsome writing-desk, my first Leghorn
hat, my first silk dress. What, in short, of all my small
treasures did not come from him?...

My sisters, according to their wants and tastes, were equally
thought of, equally provided for. Our grandfather seemed to read
our hearts, to see our invisible wishes, to be our good genius,
to wave the fairy wand, to brighten our young lives by his
goodness and his gifts. But I have written enough for this time;
and, indeed, what can I say hereafter but to repeat the same
tale of love and kindness....

I remain, my dear Mr. Randall, very truly yours,

ELLEN W. COOLIDGE.

The following contains the reminiscences of a younger grand-daughter of Jefferson:

St. Servan, France, May 26th, 1839.

Faithful to my promise, dearest ----, I shall spend an hour
every Sunday in writing all my childish recollections of my dear
grandfather which are sufficiently distinct to relate to you. My
memory seems crowded with them, and they have the vividness of
realities; but all are trifles in themselves, such as I might
talk to you by the hour, but when I have taken up my pen, they
seem almost too childish to write down. But these remembrances
are precious to me, because they are of _him_, and because they
restore him to me as he then was, when his cheerfulness and
affection were the warm sun in which his family all basked
and were invigorated. Cheerfulness, love, benevolence, wisdom,
seemed to animate his whole form. His face beamed with them. You
remember how active was his step, how lively, and even playful,
were his manners.

I can not describe the feelings of veneration, admiration, and
love that existed in my heart towards him. I looked on him as a
being too great and good for my comprehension; and yet I felt no
fear to approach him and be taught by him some of the childish
sports that I delighted in. When he walked in the garden and
would call the children to go with him, we raced after and
before him, and we were made perfectly happy by this permission
to accompany him. Not one of us, in our wildest moods, ever
placed a foot on one of the garden-beds, for that would violate
one of his rules, and yet I never heard him utter a harsh word
to one of us, or speak in a raised tone of voice, or use a
threat. He simply said, "Do," or "Do not." He would gather fruit
for us, seek out the ripest figs, or bring down the cherries
from on high above our heads with a long stick, at the end of
which there was a hook and little net bag....

One of our earliest amusements was in running races on the
terrace, or around the lawn. He placed us according to our ages,
giving the youngest and smallest the start of all the others
by some yards, and so on; and then he raised his arm high,
with his white handkerchief in his hand, on which our eager
eyes were fixed, and slowly counted three, at which number he
dropped the handkerchief, and we started off to finish the race
by returning to the starting-place and receiving our reward of
dried fruit--three figs, prunes, or dates to the victor, two to
the second, and one to the lagger who came in last. These were
our summer sports with him.

I was born the year he was elected President, and, except
one winter that we spent with him in Washington, I never was
with him during that season until after he had retired from
office. During his absences, all the children who could write
corresponded with him. Their letters were duly answered, and
it was a sad mortification to me that I had not learned to
write before his return to live at home, and of course had no
letter from him. Whenever an opportunity occurred, he sent us
books; and he never saw a little story or piece of poetry in
a newspaper, suited to our ages and tastes, that he did not
preserve it and send it to us; and from him we learnt the habit
of making these miscellaneous collections, by pasting in a
little paper book made for the purpose any thing of the sort
that we received from him or got otherwise.

On winter evenings, when it grew too dark to read, in the half
hour which passed before candles came in, as we all sat round
the fire, he taught us several childish games, and would play
them with us. I remember that "Cross-questions," and "I love my
Love with an A," were two I learned from him; and we would teach
some of ours to him.

When the candles were brought, all was quiet immediately, for
he took up his book to read; and we would not speak out of a
whisper, lest we should disturb him, and generally we followed
his example and took a book; and I have seen him raise his
eyes from his own book, and look round on the little circle of
readers and smile, and make some remark to mamma about it. When
the snow fell, we would go out, as soon as it stopped, to clear
it off the terraces with shovels, that he might have his usual
walk on them without treading in snow.

He often made us little presents. I remember his giving us
"Parents' Assistant," and that we drew lots, and that she who
drew the longest straw had the first reading of the book; the
next longest straw entitled the drawer to the second reading;
the shortest to the last reading, and ownership of the book.

Often he discovered, we knew not how, some cherished object of
our desires, and the first intimation we had of his knowing the
wish was its unexpected gratification. Sister Anne gave a silk
dress to sister Ellen. Cornelia (then eight or ten years old),
going up stairs, involuntarily expressed aloud some feelings
which possessed her bosom on the occasion, by saying, "I never
had a silk dress in my life." The next day a silk dress came
from Charlottesville to Cornelia, and (to make the rest of
us equally happy) also a pair of pretty dresses for Mary and
myself. One day I was passing hastily through the glass door
from the hall to the portico; there was a broken pane which
caught my muslin dress and tore it sadly. Grandpapa was standing
by and saw the disaster. A few days after, he came into mamma's
sitting-room with a bundle in his hand, and said to me, "I have
been mending your dress for you." He had himself selected for me
another beautiful dress. I had for a long time a great desire
to have a guitar. A lady of our neighborhood was going to the
West, and wished to part with her guitar, but she asked so high
a price that I never in my dreams aspired to its possession.
One morning, on going down to breakfast, I saw the guitar. It
had been sent up by Mrs. ---- for us to look at, and grandpapa
told me that if I would promise to learn to play on it I should
have it. I never shall forget my ecstasies. I was but fourteen
years old, and the first wish of my heart was unexpectedly
gratified....

VIRGINIA J. TRIST.