umed his vocation in this Town; in
which he discovered the most exemplary tenderness, and unusual depth
of professional knowledge. He was sagacious by nature, inquisitive
and comprehensive, improved by study, and refined by sentiment. He
was equalled by few in the social and domestic virtues of politeness
and benevolence. He was the accomplished Gentleman, and finished
Scholar--the best of Husbands, and the best of Parents. The Poor and
needy ever experienced the humanity of his tender and sympathetic
soul. He was a man to hear "Afflicktion's cry." The loss of so much
charity, friendship and beneficence but claims the tributary tear;
But, temper your grief, ye pensive Relatives, and afflicted Friends--

"The toils of life and pangs of death are O'er;
And care, and pain, and sickness are no more."

He is gone, we fondly hope, to chant anthems of praise to an
approving God! Though the struggles of nature are agonizing and
prevailing, yet disturb not his gentle shade by impassioned
woe!--"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; Blessed be the
name of the Lord."

[Illustration: Hall and stairway in Dr. Brown's House]

There are not many reminders left of the good Doctor. In the Library of
Congress a few bills rendered to Colonel John Fitzgerald for outfitting
ships' medicine boxes and attending sick sailors; a letter from one
Thomas Bond of Philadelphia written in April 1784 to Colonel Fitzgerald
stating that his brother "goes to Virginia to study Physic under Dr.
Brown." In the Virginia State Library is a tax report showing that for
the year 1784 he owned eight slaves and one cattle, and that in 1789 the
Doctor had three blacks and two horses. The minutes he wrote as clerk
and treasurer of the Sun Fire Company are preserved and, of course, a
few copies of his _Pharmacopoeia_.

The Dr. William Brown house stands today much as it stood during his
lifetime. Architecturally and historically it is one of the most
interesting in Alexandria. No great house, this modest home built of
white clapboard over brick and sitting close to the ground, rises two
and one-half stories, hiding behind its stout doorway some of the best
and certainly the most original woodwork in the old town.

One enters a spacious hall, the wide board floors of which are worn with
the passing of many years, and colored by use and time a deep amber.
Running around the hall is paneled wainsc