"Among other visitors at the house, I recall, were Mr. and Mrs. Barlow.* On the eve of their departure they went with my father and mother to Bladensburg, then a favorite afternoon drive from the City, where there was a spa or mineral spring which was the attraction of the place. It bubbled from the eastern branch of the Potomac, a very small spring shaded by some fine old trees. It was here that I first heard the oft quoted lines, repeated by my mother apropos of the occasion:

By the side of a murmuring stream,

An elderly gentleman sat,

On the top of his head was his wig,

And on the top of his wig was his hat, etc.

"Along with these lines, I recall most distinctly the slender, gray haired, elderly gentleman and his wife, a soft spoken low voiced lady, remarkably thin almost to emaciation, of great refinement.

"I remember being with my father in Cooper's Book Store one day, when we met Francis, the actor, and, I think, the elder Jefferson; and my father mentioning a promise he had made to take me to the theatre, they suggested that we should go to see 'She Stoops to Conquer,' with the after-piece of the 'Forest of Bonday' or 'the Dog of Montargis.'

"These were my first theatrical experiences. I shall never forget the night of joy. Rachel has given me less pleasure than did Warren in the character of Old Hardcastle, Barrett as young Marlowe, and Jefferson as Tony

*Joel Barlow was prominent in the political world and was appointed Minister of the United States to France, 1811-12. Known also as one of the "Hartford wits," he was the author of "The Columbiad" and other books. Theodore Roosevelt says of the "Columbiad"

"I have one of the copies of the original edition. I wouldn't have it out of my library for any consideration, unless I were required to read it."

Lumpkin on the occasion. My father took us to the play once more that season, when Barrett played Bertram in 'The Castle of St. Aldobrand.' I recall nothing of the tragedy, but the dog of Montargis, who rang the bell as he sprang at the sausage on the bell rope, I never can forget.

"Two of my father's visitors at the Navy Yard House were the Colonel of the Marine Corps and Commodore Tingey, the Commandant of the Yard. Colonel Wharton was a grand looking man, tall, stately and dignified in the extreme. I see him now in a black frock coat, buttoned to the chin, which was held up by a stiff leather stock. He wore powder after a fashion that had not quite gone out of use. Commodore Tingey looked the reverse of Colonel Wharton. He was what, when I read Peregrine Pickle at a much later date, I supposed Commodore Trunnion must have been, a rotund man, with a quarterdeck roll in his walk, a round red face, and a speaking trumpet voice. His laughing good humor and gray eyes shine through a long vista of memory. A jolly sea dog, but a refined gentleman, Commodore Tingey."

In one of Mr. Latrobe's lectures, he speaks of the impression he received on seeing the performance of "Aladdin and His Lamp," and also refers to his admiration for the room of the House of Representatives. This building was under the charge of his father, and the probabilities are he visited the Capitol from time to time.

He gives rather a graphic account of "Mammy Kitty," who was his nurse:

"Mammy Kitty, my nurse, was a most remarkable woman, a small, red-haired, freckled face, pale eyed and very romantic person of Scotch descent, with wonderful memory for old Scotch ballads. Better educated than most women

who took service in those days and from respectable connections, and of the most fierce and ungovernable temper. Her temper was only equalled by the most devoted affection to my family. She would not be turned away. Through good times and bad times she clung to our fortunes, and died a terrible death in our house, long years after. My character even at this day has marked impressions upon it by Mammy Kitty. She knew Chevy Chase by heart and a ballad about a lover who hid himself upon the bank of a narrow stream to escape from foes who leaped their horses from bank to bank over his hiding place. She would go singing about the house scraps of songs relating to Scotland. 'Roy's Wife of Aldevellock,' I can repeat in part even now, as I learned it from Kitty. I have a notion that there was chronic disposition to fall in love that accompanied her romantic turn. It is proper to say that absolute fidelity never had such an illustration as her life afforded; the nearest parallel that I can recall is that of Caleb Baldwin in the 'Bride of Lammermoor.' And there were times in the history of the family, while Mammy Kitty lived, when stringent circumstances made her services next to indispensable.

"The envy of the 'Academy' in those days was a boy who left us to enter the Navy as a midshipman, and whose ship, the 'John Adams,' the whole school got leave to 'go out' to see as she left the Navy Yard, under topsails and jib. Trifles impress themselves on the memory; and at this day I can recall the set of the jib. Charley Macaulay we called the lad, who afterwards became distinguished as Commodore Macaulay.

"Adjoining the Navy Yard House was the house occupied by the Rev. Dr. Hunter, a Presbyterian clergyman, who was, if I remember aright, chaplain to the Marine

Corps. The two families were intimate, and my playmates and schoolfellows were Moses and David Hunter. Moses was a much bigger boy than I was, and one day when passing by some brick ponds on our way home from school, he put on my shoulders lumps of soft clay, saying that he made a general of me. His brother, David, was afterwards my class-mate at West Point, on his way to become the well-known General of the Union Army in the late war, (he commanded the main column of McDowell's army in the Manassas campaign and participated in the Battle of Bull Run), while I, notwithstanding my clay epaulets, never got higher than a Cadet.

"I remember Commodore David Porter, the father of the present* (1887) Admiral, before he became celebrated in the War of 1812, by reason of his fight with two English vessels. He was a spare built man and used to pet me. He was an admirer of my eldest sister before she became Mrs. Roosevelt. Then there was Lieutenant Brooks, afterwards killed in the battle on Lake Erie, one of the handsomest men in the Navy. The sash worn by him when he died on the deck of the 'Lawrence' was shown to me by his father, Governor Brooks of Massachusetts, when, with other cadets, I dined at his house at Medford on the march of the cadets to Boston in 1821.

"But to return to my autobiography. Among my play.. mates, while we lived on the Avenue, I remember the children of Albert Gallatin, the Secretary of the Treasury, 18011813, and an intimate friend of our family. He had the reputation of being one of the greatest financiers of the age. He lived not far from the Capitol, in an odd-looking house with an immense garret in which the Gallatin boys and my

*His ship, the Essex, was captured. His report on this event was "We have been unfortunate, but not disgraced."

self were wont to harness chairs as horses and drive four in hand, without fear of the fate of Phaeton. I think that I can recall the appearance of Mr. Gallatin at this time, but it is very possible that, having seen him afterwards when I was in active life, I may confound the dates. His daughter, Mrs. Stevens, was the first sweetheart of the eight or ten year old charioteer of the garret. My acquaintance with her brothers* was renewed when we became men.

"Going to dancing school is sometimes an epoch in a boy's life. In mine this epoch is only remarkable in connection with my first teacher, one of whose scholars, at an earlier date, had been no less a person than Marie Antoinette. His name was Duport. I can recall his bald head, the ring of gray hair around the back of his head from ear to ear, his portly body, and well shaped limbs indued in small clothes, and his air in handling his 'kit' or little violin. I do not think that I could have made much progress with Duport, for I was soon sent to a Mr. Generes where I probably did no better, and I only mention his name because I was reminded of my dancing school days by seeing it on the door of a merchant's counting house in New Orleans, when I was once engaged in the trial of a cause in that city. The merchant, I was told, if I recollect rightly, was of the family of my old instructor.

"Duport kept a perfumer's shop in Georgetown, and on one occasion my mother went there to obtain a particular pomatum-say 'pomade de la rose.' Opening one pot Duport smelled it, when, pronouncing it to be 'pomade de la reine,' he opened a number of pots in succession with the same result. He then turned to my mother, saying 'Ah! Madame, que je suis au désespoir, je n'ai que la pomade de la reine dans la boutique.' My mother laughed, and told him that it was *James Gallatin whose diary was published by Scribner, 1916, was one of them.