windows looked out on the trees
and the river, which took away some of its gloominess. Nothing but a
bedstead, with high, spindling posts, was there.

"Did he die on that?" says I to a gentleman near me.

"No," says he, "but on a bedstead just like it."

I turned away. What business had a sham bedstead in that room? The idea
of it riled up something besides sympathy in my bosom. I had rather see
bare walls than a bedstead _like_ the one he died on. Why don't they
take it down?

We went into the parlor. It isn't over-large, and looks cheery. An old,
coffin-shaped piano was there, with broken wires; some old china plates
and dishes were piled together. That was about all.

I couldn't stand it. The tomb had sunshine about it, and wasn't half so
gloomy. The hall-door was open, and I went out. A little way from the
house was Washington's flower-garden, where a few jonquills and crocuses
were spotting the earth with yellow. Near that was a large brick house,
long and low, crowded full of plants which had flowers on them.

This wasn't Washington's greenhouse, but a brand new one, which looked
like a spring bonnet worn with a ten-year old dress. This riled me too.
It seemed to me that the old homestead should be kept just as Washington
left it. Newfangled improvements are an aggravation.

Before I came away from Washington there was a good deal of talk about
the lady who lives here and takes charge, but I couldn't for the life of
me find out anything that seemed extravagant or wrong about her. The
truth is, the ladies of this country have spent years collecting money
to buy Mount Vernon, and make it a place sacred to the nation, but they
failed in obtaining a fund large enough to maintain it with honor.

The society give this lady no remunerative salary, and nothing but a
pure missionary spirit could keep her in that dull and mournful place.
If she raises money enough to keep the homestead in repair, it is all
any one ought to ask, and all the nation wants. But for my part, I scorn
this quiddling way of making money. There is a meanness about it that
disgraces the nation.

The thing that should be done is this: put the whole concern into the
hands of Congress. It ought to belong to the nation. Washington was not
the saviour of a lot of women only, but of the whole country. Let the
country have possession of his old home, and appropriate all the money
needed to keep it in perfect order, as Washington left it. If the wo