same grand old Potomac. But now he sleeps peacefully amid all these beauties--he heeds not the tread of the stranger--the sound of the war-drum disturbs not his slumbers. In one of the rooms is Washington’s knapsack, holsters, and medicine-chest. In the hall hangs the large iron key of the ancient Bastile of France, presented to General Washington by General La Fayette. The ceilings are stuccoed and contain many curious devices, such as flowers, human figures, implements of husbandry, etc. Having finished our visit here, we repair to the flower-garden, through which we are conducted by a colored man, who claims to have been a slave of General Washington. “I’ve lived here right smart; heap o’ years afore mass’ and missis died,” he tells us. This garden is beautiful, but sadly neglected. The greenhouse[1] contains many choice plants. A variety of evergreens and stately forest trees, including a large and beautiful magnolia--which we are told Washington brought from Florida and planted with his own hands--constitute a fine grove in front of the mansion. We gathered a few stray leaves, which had fallen to the ground, as precious mementoes of the place. But the most sacred spot is yet to be visited--the vault--where are deposited the remains of that noble couple, George and Martha Washington. We approach the sleeping dead with slow and cautious step, for it seems that we are treading upon holy ground. Oh, what memories cluster around this venerated tomb! The past and the present are strangely linked together. The principle of universal liberty, for which he fought, is that for which we are now contending. In the outer apartment of the vault are two large sarcophagi, which can plainly be seen through the iron grating; but the remains are deposited in the inner apartment. On either side of the tomb are monuments erected to the memory of different members of the family. We gather a few pebbles from the vault as sacred relics from a consecrated tomb, and leave the sainted dead to their silent slumbers. [1] Since burned.