Years after, when Madame Iturbide was left a widow in Mexico, the Emperor Maximilian wished to adopt her son, to which she gave her consent, but finding later that it meant complete separation from him, she kidnapped him and escaped to America. For two whole days after the Battle of Bull Run, the "Damn Yankees," as the Marburys called them, poured over the nearby bridge from Virginia at a dog-trot and dropped from exhaustion on the steps of this house and the pavement. Mr. Marbury ordered all of the shutters to be kept tightly closed during that dreadful time. A little granddaughter of his, living there, went one day with a friend of hers to place flowers on the grave of a child of Jefferson Davis in Oak Hill Cemetery. They were arrested, and when it was discovered who she was, soldiers were sent to search the house. Mrs. Marbury had some letters from her nephews in the Confederate Army, and she hurriedly sewed them up in a chair, for she said the boys might be killed and she hated to destroy their letters. Many, many years after, on a summer day in the garret of an old house, not far from Leesburg, Virginia, three of Mrs. Marbury's great-grandchildren ripped them out of their long hiding place. Just a few doors west of this interesting old house stood another, somewhat smaller, which, until a few years ago, was in its original state of preservation. Now it has gone! It was the home of the author of our National Anthem. Here Francis Scott Key lived for twenty years. Here his eleven children were born, while he served three terms as District Attorney and engaged in the private practice of law. Everyone knows the story of how, hearing of the arrest of a friend, Dr. William Beanes, by the British, in the War of 1812, Mr. Key made the trip to Baltimore to see what he could do to help the old gentleman, who had done some very rash talking down in Prince Georges County. Mr. Key was a connection of Mrs. Beanes', who was a member of the Plater family. Mr. Key went on board the British man-of-war, under the command of Admiral Cockburn, called _The Red Devil of the Chesapeake_, lying opposite Fort McHenry, but was told by the captain that he would have to spend the night on board as a bombardment was about to take place. Imagine his sensations all through the night--no wonder that he burst forth into such a poem of love for his flag when he came on deck in the early morning and saw it "still there!" [Illustration: HOME OF FRANCIS SCOTT KEY] Poetry was only a side issue with Mr. Key. I have often thought how interesting it is that a man may work all the days of his life at his profession or vocation, and some avocation, like verse-making, may carry his name down to posterity; like Izaak Walton, who had an insurance business in London, but is remembered now only as a fisherman.