ilable skill
could accomplish was done for her, but she died after a lingering and
painful illness, in the spring of 1794.

They had lived together happily for twelve years, and he grieved for
her deeply and sincerely. Yet the greatest and most absorbing passion
of his life was for his daughter, Theodosia, who was named for her
mother and was born in the first year of their marriage. When little
Theodosia was first laid in her father's arms, all that was best in
him answered to her mute plea for his affection, and later, all that
was best in him responded to her baby smile.

Between those two, there was ever the fullest confidence, never
tarnished by doubt or mistrust, and when all the world forsook him,
Theodosia, grown to womanhood, stood proudly by her father's side and
shared his blame as if it had been the highest honour.

When she was a year or two old, they moved to a large house at the
corner of Cedar and Nassau Streets, in New York City. A large garden
surrounded it and there were grapevines in the rear. Here the child
grew strong and healthy, and laid the foundations of her girlish
beauty and mature charm. When she was but three years old her mother
wrote to the father, saying:

"Your dear little Theodosia cannot hear you spoken of
without an apparent melancholy; insomuch, that her nurse is
obliged to exert her invention to divert her, and myself
avoid the mention of you in her presence. She was one whole
day indifferent to everything but your name. Her attachment
is not of a common nature."

And again:

"Your dear little daughter seeks you twenty times a day,
calls you to your meals, and will not suffer your chair to
be filled by any of the family."

The child was educated as if she had been a boy. She learned to
read Latin and Greek fluently, and the accomplishments of her time
were not neglected. When she was at school, the father wrote her
regularly, and did not allow one of her letters to wait a day for
its affectionate answer. He corrected her spelling and her grammar,
instilled sound truths into her mind, and formed her habits. From this
plastic clay, with inexpressible love and patient toil, he shaped his
ideal woman.

She grew into a beautiful girl. Her features were much like her
father's. She was petite, graceful, plump, rosy, dignified, and
gracious. In her manner, there was a calm assurance--the air of
mastery over all situations--which she