"Home is the pure original fountain from which all patriotism must flow, and the stream can never rise above its source. As the woman is, the man is; as the man and woman are, the home is; and as the home, so the country. Show me refined, enlightened, virtuous, and industrious homes, and I will show you a good government and a great nation. The nation is the aggregate, the homes are the units; man is the builder, woman is the inspiration. Discuss constitutions, administrations, and policies as we may, the outcome must depend upon the subsoil they spring from. Make the home all right, and the rest must follow. This is woman's mission. Our race, the youngest that has framed a language, moulded a constitution, and made a name, has recognized that mission and held it sacred. Other races roam the earth for pelf and adventure, and condescend to inferior connections. Our race roams the earth only to find the spot on which to build its homes. Indeed it never quits home. It carries home with it. Wife and child, the domestic animals and plants, the household goods go where it goes, over the stormy billows, into the wilderness, and even to the verge of battle. It is a beautiful legend of the Rappahannock that when Spotswood and his companions came sailing hither the air was made vocal by the English swallows that they brought with them. The stars might change, but they would make the skies still resonant with the songs of the olden homes." And as the ages pass may there be always some to make the skies vocal with the songs of the olden times of the Virginia she loved. But the "olden homes," alas, are passing away. Their solid masonry long resists the tooth of Time, but the all-destroyer, Fire, levels them at last. The walls fall, the stones are removed,--let us hope for the building of other homes,--finally the drifting earth fills the foundations, and daisies that "look up to God" alone remain to keep vigil. Pious hands preserve the old historic churches. Old Christ Church in Lancaster, where Mrs. Ball (the "Widow Johnson") stood with little Mary's sponsors in baptism, still exists; so does Yeocomico church in Westmoreland, where sweet Mary Ball prayed to the God who never forsook her; so does St. George's Church in Fredericksburg, built on the site of "Old St. George's," where, "devout and worshipful," her venerable form was never a moment too late. [Illustration: The Avenue of Poplars at Nomini Hall.]