“Every one loves Mrs. Madison,” said Henry Clay, voicing the common sentiment. “And Mrs. Madison loves everybody,” was her quick response. The president used to say that when he was tired out from matters of state a visit to her sitting-room, where he was sure of a bright story and a hearty laugh, was as refreshing as a long walk in the open air. But even with such a mistress of the White House the affairs of the nation did not remain tranquil. Trouble with England, which had long been brewing, came to a crisis and war was declared in 1812. As most of the fighting was at sea, life at Washington went on undisturbed until August of 1814, when the British landed five thousand men near the capital and marched to attack it. The town was in a panic when the messenger rode in at full speed, announcing fifty ships anchoring in the Potomac. “Have you the courage to stay here till I come back, to-morrow or next day?” asked the president. And Dolly Madison replied, “I am not afraid of anything, if only you are not harmed and our army triumphs.” “Good-by then, and if anything happens, look out for the state papers,” said Madison, and rode away to the point where the citizen-soldiers were gathering. Many Washington people began carrying their property off to the country, but the brave woman at the White House did not run away. At last there came a penciled note from the president: “Enemy stronger than we heard at first. They may reach the city and destroy it. Be ready to leave at a moment’s warning.” Most of Mrs. Madison’s friends were already gone, even the soldiers who had been left to guard the executive mansion. Not a wagon could be secured. “Bring me as many trunks as my carriage will hold,” ordered Dolly Madison and set to work packing them with the nation’s most valuable papers. Night came but the lady of the White House worked on. At dawn she began searching through her spyglass, hoping to catch a glimpse of her husband. All she could see was here and there a group of soldiers wandering about, men sleeping in the fields, frightened women and children hurrying to the bridge over the Potomac. She could hear the roar of cannon, the battle was going on only six miles away; still the president did not come. One of the servants, French John, offered to spike the cannon at the gate and lay a train of powder that would blow up the British if they entered the house. But to this Mrs. Madison objected, though she could not make John understand why in war every advantage might not be taken. About three o’clock in the afternoon two men covered with dust galloped up and cried, “Fly, fly! The house will be burned over your head!” Some good friends had succeeded in getting a wagon and Mrs. Madison filled it with the White House silver. “To the bank of Maryland,” she ordered, and added to herself, “or the hands of the British--which will it be?”