Virginia. Here he lived, more like a
hermit than a citizen of the world, or a member of a civilised
community. His house was little more than a shell, without partitions,
and it lacked even such articles of furniture as were necessary for the
most common uses. To a gentleman who visited him in this forlorn
retreat, where he found a kitchen in one corner, a bed in another, books
in a third, saddles and harness in a fourth, Lee said: "Sir, it is the
most convenient and economical establishment in the world. The lines of
chalk which you see on the floor mark the divisions of the apartments,
and I can sit in a corner and give orders and overlook the whole without
moving from my chair."[4]

General Lee died in an obscure inn in Philadelphia, October 2, 1782. His
will was characteristic: "I desire most earnestly that I may not be
buried in any church or churchyard, or within a mile of any Presbyterian
or Baptist meeting-house; for since I have resided in this country I
have kept so much bad company that I do not choose to continue it when
dead." In this will, our singular hero paid a tribute of affectionate
remembrance to several of his intimate friends, and of grateful
generosity to the humble dependents who had adhered to him and
ministered to his wants in his retirement. The bulk of his
property--for he was a man of no small means--was bequeathed to his only
sister, Sydney Lee, to whom he was ever devotedly attached.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 2: Drake's "Historic Fields and Mansions of Middlesex."
Little, Brown & Co., publishers.]

[Footnote 3: Drake's "Historic Fields and Mansions of Middlesex."]

[Footnote 4: Sparks's "Life of Charles Lee." Little, Brown & Co.]

THE MESSAGE OF THE LANTERNS

[Illustration: CHRIST CHURCH--PAUL REVERE HOUSE, BOSTON, MASS.]

There are many points of view from which this tale of Paul Revere may be
told, but to the generality of people the interest of the poem, and of
the historical event itself, will always centre around Christ Church, on
Salem Street, in the North End of Boston--the church where the lanterns
were hung out on the night before the battles of Lexington and Concord.
At nearly every hour of the day some one may be seen in the now
unfrequented street looking up at the edifice's lofty spire with an
expression full of reverence and satisfaction. There upon the
venerable structure, imbedded in the solid masonry of the tower front,
one reads upon a tablet:

THE SIGNA