"They call me 'old fogy,' and tell me I must get out of my old ruts and come into the 'advanced age.' But I don't care about their 'advanced age;' their water-pipes and elevators. Give me the right sort of men and women! God loving; God serving men and women. Men brave, courteous, true. Women sensible, gentle and retiring. "Have not my 'plantation homes' furnished warriors, statesmen and orators, acknowledged great by the world? I make it a rule to 'keep on hand' men equal to emergencies. Had I not Washington, Patrick Henry, Light-horse Harry Lee, and others, ready for the first Revolution; and if there comes another--which God forbid!--have I not plenty more just like them?" Here she laughed with delight, as she called over their names: "Robert Lee, Jackson, Joe Johnstone, Stuart, Early, Floyd, Preston, the Breckinridges, Scott, and others like them, brave and true as steel. Ha! ha! I know of what stuff to make men! And if my old 'ruts and grooves' produce men like these, should they be abandoned? Can any 'advanced age' produce better? "Then there are my soldiers of the cross. Do I not yearly send out a faithful band to be a 'shining light,' and spread the gospel North, South, East, West, even into foreign lands? Is not the only Christian paper in Athens, Greece, the result of the love and labor of one of my[1] soldiers? "And can I not send out men of science, as well as warriors, statesmen and orators? There is Maury on the seas showing the world what a man of science can do. If my 'old fogy' system has produced men like these must it be abandoned?" Here the old mother of States settled herself back in her chair, a smile of satisfaction resting on her face, and she ceased to think of _change_. Telling our mother of all the wonders and pleasures of New York, she said: "You were so delighted, I expect you would like to sell out everything here and move there!" "It would be delightful!" we exclaimed. "But you would miss many pleasures you have in our present home." "We would have no time to miss anything," said my sister, "in that whirl of excitement!" "But," she continued. "I believe one might as well try to move the Rocky Mountains to Fifth Avenue, as an old Virginian! They have such a horror of selling out and moving." "It is not so easy to sell out and move," replied our mother, "when you remember all the negroes we have to take care of and support." "Yes, the negroes," we said, "are the weight continually pulling us down! Will the time _ever_ come for us to be free of them?"