tterment. To this end he journeyed to Washington and laid his project
before the President and the Secretary of War, John C. Calhoun. He was
most courteously entertained by these gentlemen and received the
appointment.

In the following spring with his son Richard he travelled through the
northwestern frontiers of the United States, and gained much valuable
information which he laid before the Government. As he was a man of
delicate constitution, we cannot but admire his indomitable spirit in
ever devising new projects of usefulness to his fellow men. It was
impossible for him to remain idle.

But it is not within the scope of this work to follow him on his
journeys, although his letters of that period make interesting reading.
While he was in Washington his wife, writing to him on January 27, 1820,
says: "Mrs. Salisbury and Abby drank tea with us day before yesterday.
They told us that Catherine Breese was married to a lieutenant in the
army. This must have been a very sudden thing, and I should suppose very
grievous to Arthur."

Little did the good lady think as she penned these words that, many years
afterwards, her beloved eldest son would take as his second wife a
daughter of this union. Why this marriage should have been "grievous" to
the father, Arthur Breese, I do not know, unless all army officers were
classed among the ungodly by the very pious of those days. As a matter of
fact, Lieutenant, afterwards Captain, Griswold was a most gallant
gentleman.

In the mean time Finley Morse had reached Charleston in safety after a
tedious journey of many days by stage from Washington, and was busily
employed in painting. On February 4, 1820, he writes to his mother:--

"I received your good letter of the 19th and 22d ult., and thank you for
it. I wish I had time to give you a narrative of my journey as you wish,
but you know '_time is money_,' and we must '_make hay while the sun
shines_,' and '_a penny saved is a penny got_," and '_least said soonest
mended_,' and a good many other wise sayings which would be quite pat,
but I can't think of them.

"The fact is I have scarcely time to say or write a word. I am busily
employed in getting the cash, or else Ned's almanac for March will
foretell falsely.

"I am doing well, although the city fairly swarms with painters. I am the
only one that has as much as he can do; all the rest are complaining. I
wish I could divide with some of them, very clever men who have famil