odorous of its tribe, leaped to the top of the tallest trees and cast abroad streamers laden with bloom; faint purple clusters of wistaria hung from wall and trellis and branch; a golden chain of cowslips bordered the walks ; glowing patches of tulips nodded saucy heads in the river breeze that drank the dew from their cups. A great pecan-tree, the planting of which, almost a hundred years ago, was formally recorded in the Plantation Year-book, towered on one side of the lawn, and in its shadow bloomed a bed of royal purple iris, the roots of which were brought from Washington's birthplace.

Every square has its story; alley and plot, tree and shrub, are beaded with hallowed associations as the lush grasses were strung with dew-pearls on that sweet-scented May morning.

Standing on the river-bank facing the house, the double-leaved doors of which were open, front and back, we saw it framed in a vista of verdure, and looking through and beyond the central hall caught glimpses of sward that was a field of cloth-of-gold with buttercups; masses of spring foliage, tenderly green, mingled with wide white-tented dogwood, transplanted into a "pleasaunce," which is cleft by the same

vista running on unbroken for three miles until the lines, converging with distance, are lost in the forest. There are seven thousand acres in the estate as at present bounded, eighteen hundred of which are in admirable cultivation, under the skilful management of Major Mann Page, Mrs. Harrison's near relative, who has been a member of her household for thirty years. Except for the dents of bullets in the stanch walls, the exterior tells nothing of the fiery blast and rain that nearly wrought ruin to the whole edifice. Out-buildings and enclosures have been renewed, peace and promise of plenty rejoice on every side.

The house has a frontage of 210 feet, the wings being joined by covered corridors to the main building, projected by the architectural President. The corridors are a single story in height, the rest of the structure is two-storied. Broad porches, back and front, give entrance to the hall, which is large and lightsome, well furnished with bookshelves, tables and chairs, and hung with pictures, a favorite lounging-place, winter and summer, with inmates and guests. Like all the old mansions on the James, Brandon is doublefronted. The carriage-drive leads up to what

would be called the backdoor; the other main

To the right, as we "pleasaunce" and Buffets, filled with and curious, stand

entrance faces the river. enter the hall from the drive, is the dining-room. old family-plate, handsome on either side; the vases on the mantel were used at the Lafayette banquet at Richmond in 1824; on the wall are valuable portraits.

Conspicuous among these last is one of Daniel Parke, who in the campaign in Flanders, 1704, was aide-de-camp to the Duke of Marlborough. He is named in the Duke's despatch to Queen Anne announcing the victory of Blenheim, as "the bearer, Col. Parke, who will give her an account of what has passed." After receiving gracious audience from the Queen, he made so bold as to ask that her portrait might be given to him instead of the customary bonus of five hundred pounds. It was sent to him set in diamonds. He was appointed Governor-General of the Leeward Islands (W. I.) in 1706, and was received with marked favor by the inhabitants on his arrival at Antigua. His popularity was, however, short-lived. In 1710, a mob, excited to frenzy by irregularities in his administration, and his

cruel, arrogant temper, surrounded the Government House, and he was killed in the tumult. His daughter was the first wife of Colonel William Evelyn Byrd of Westover, and the ancestress of a long line of prominent Virginians, whose employment of the patronymic "Parke" as a Christian name, indicates their descent.

The painting, a fine one, gives us a threequarter length likeness of a man in superb court costume, standing, hand on hip, by a table on which are heaped several rich medals and chains. He wears the Queen's miniature, surrounded with brilliants; the figure is soldierly, the face is haughty, and would be handsome but for a lurking, sinister devil in the dark eyes that partially exculpates the populace in his violent taking off.

The door of the drawing-room is opposite that of the dining-parlor, the hall lying between. Both apartments have the full depth of the house, and are peopled to the thoughtful guests with visions from a Past beside which our busy To-day seems tame and jejune enough.

General William Henry Harrison, President, for one little month, of these United States, spent his Sundays at Brandon while a school

boy in the neighborhood. Fillmore laughed with his Cabinet here over the memorial of his farmer-boyhood set up that day in the harvestfield, a wheat-sheaf bound dexterously by the hands of the Chief Magistrate of the nation, and long preserved on the plantation.

Another incident connected with Mr. Fillmore's visit to Brandon pleasingly illustrates the oneness of interest that existed between employers and family servants. George, the Brandon cook, was a fine specimen of his class. A master of his craft, stately in manner and speech, he suffered no undue humility to cloud his consciousness of his abilities. A family festival in honor of a clan anniversary had filled the old house with guests for several days, and tested the abundant larder to what seemed to be its utmost possibilities. On the very day that saw the departure of the company, a communication was received by Mrs. Harrison informing her that the Presidential party might be expected on the morrow. She summoned George and imparted the startling

news.

He met it like an ebony Gibraltar,

"Very well, madam, your orders shall be obeyed."