He could take the cheers of the crowd with a quiet smile. He knew that some of them would remember and in their own way would act. Anna joined her husband on the New York trip. And for a short while they relived the time more than forty years before, when, after the anxious days and nights, they were first free together. This trip, their youngest son Charles was marrying Laura Haley, whose home was in New York. They had banks of flowers, organ music, smart ushers and lovely bridesmaids. The marriage of Charles, son of Frederick Douglass, was a very different affair from that wedding so long ago when Frederick, fugitive from slavery, took Anna Murray, freewoman, to be his wife. As the bride all in white came floating down the aisle, Douglass turned and smiled into Anna’s clear, good eyes. * * * * * With his appointment as Recorder of Deeds for the District of Columbia, Douglass knew that he could safely buy the house he coveted. It was for sale, but until now he had only gazed with longing. It was on Anacostia Heights overlooking Washington across the Potomac--a fine old house with spacious grounds, servants’ quarters and stables. As soon as he took office, and without saying anything to Anna, he set about buying the property. For many reasons Douglass’ present appointment was far more desirable than the post of Marshal. The Recorder’s job was a local office; though held at the pleasure of the President, it was in no sense a federal or political post. Douglass felt freer and more on his own. At that time the salary was not fixed. The office was supported solely by fees paid for work done by its employees. Since every transfer of property, every deed of trust and every mortgage had to be recorded, the income was at times larger than that of any office of the national government except that of the President. Also, Douglass had that winter brought out the third of his autobiographies, _The Life and Times of Frederick Douglass_. June promised to be a hot month, and everybody was talking about getting away from the city. Anna thought her husband seemed increasingly busy and preoccupied. “Come along, dear,” he said one Sunday. “We’re going for a drive.” “Me too, Grandma!” Their grandchild, Rosetta’s little girl, came running up. “Not this time, honey,” Douglass said. “Grandpa’ll take you riding, but not right now.” And he added for Anna’s ears alone, “Today I only want your grandmother.” He was in a talkative mood that afternoon. “Remember the morning the boat pulled into New Bedford?” he asked as they crossed the bridge over the Potomac River. “Remember the big house sitting up on the hill?”