were used on the evening of Jesse Waln's visit, with other choice bits of bric-a-brac. The rear window, opening now upon a small conservatory, then gave upon a long grapearbor, running far down the garden. Between the drawing-room door and this window-the fair, extensive pleasure-grounds, sleeping in the afternoon sunshine, visible to all at the table -the Washingtons took their "dish of tea" in security, shadowed only by thoughts of the plague-stricken city, lying so near as to suggest sadder topics than the sweet-hearted hostess would willingly introduce. It is an idyllic domestic scene, and the lovelier for the cloudy background.

The "pitcher-portrait" of Washington in the possession of Mr. Morris was presented to his great-grandfather, Governor Samuel Morris, captain, during the War of the Revolution, of the First City Troop. These pitchers were made in France, and were tokens of the disGeneral for those

tinguished esteem of the honored as the recipients. The likeness was considered so far superior to any other extant at that time, that an order for duplicates was sent to Paris when the first supply was given away. Unfortunately, the model had been de

stroyed after the original requisition was filled, and the attempt to reproduce the design was unsatisfactory as to likeness and execution, a circumstance which enhances the value of the originals.

Mr. Morris justly reckons as scarcely second in worth to this beautiful relic, an autograph letter from Washington to his great-grandfather, Governor Morris, thanking him for the gallant service rendered in the War of Independence by the First City Troop.

VII

THE SCHUYLER AND COLFAX HOUSES,

SIX

POMPTON, NEW JERSEY

hundred feet above the sea level; screened by two mountain ranges from sea-fogs and shore rawness; watered as the garden of the Lord by brooks, brown and brisk, racing down from the hills-Pompton is the bonniest nook in New Jersey.

Henry Ward Beecher said of the plucky little State, that the trailing arbutus, fabled to spring from the blood of heroes, grows more luxuriantly within her bounds than anywhere else. Were the fantasy aught but a fable, Pompton and its environs would be overrun with the brave daintiness of the patriot's flower.

It was situated on the King's Highway, between New York and Morristown, and the tide of war ebbed and flowed over it many

times during the fateful years of the Revolution. In a small yellow house that stood, within the last ten years, upon a corner-lot equidistant from the Pompton station of the Montclair and Greenwood Lake Railway, and that of the New York, Susquehanna and Western, Washington had his headquarters during his progresses to and from Morristown. I have talked with old people who recollected seeing him stand in the rude porch, reviewing the dusty lines of troops as they filed by. Hooks, that once supported muskets, were in the ceiling of the "stoop," and the floor of the largest room was indented by much grounding of arms.

The beetling brow of the loftiest of the lines. of hills interlocking the cup-like valley, was the observatory of the Commander-in-Chief on several occasions, and bears, in memory of the majestic Presence, the name of "Federal Rock."

In Lord Stirling's forge, the foundations of which are yet stanch in the adjacent Wanaqué Valley, was welded the mighty chain stretched by Washington across the Hudson to prevent the passage of the British ships, some links of which are still to be seen on the parade-ground at West Point.