d of a lawsuit in France, touching a
name that has been illustrious in that country for a period so long as
to extend beyond the reach of man--as, indeed, was apparent by the
matter in controversy--and which name has obtained for itself a high
place in the annals of even our own republic. I allude to the House of
Grasse, which was seated, prior to the revolution, and may be still, at
a place called Grasse, in the southern part of the kingdom, the town
being almost as famous for the manufacture of pleasant things as the
family for its exploits in arms. About a century since, the Marquis de
Grasse is said to have had a _proces_ with his neighbours of the place,
to establish the fact whether the family gave its name to the town, or
the town gave its name to the family. The Marquis prevailed in the
struggle, but greatly impaired his fortune in achieving that new
victory. As my house, or its predecessor, was certainly erected and
named while the site of Little Nest was still in the virgin forest, one
would think its claims to the priority of possession beyond dispute; but
such might not prove to be the case on a trial. There are two histories
among us, as relates to both public and private things; the one being as
nearly true as is usual, while the other is invariably the fruits of the
human imagination. Everything depending so much on majorities, that soon
gets to be the most authentic tradition which has the most believers;
for, under the system of numbers, little regard is paid to superior
advantages, knowledge, or investigation, all depending on 3 as against
2, which makes 1 majority. I find a great deal of this spurious history
is getting to be mixed up with the anti-rent controversy, facts coming
out daily that long have lain dormant in the graves of the past. These
facts affect the whole structure of the historical picture of the State
and colony, leaving touches of black where the pencil had originally put
in white, and placing the high lights where the shadows have before
always been understood to be. In a word, men are telling the stories as
best agrees with their present views, and not at all as they agree with
fact.

It was the intention of Tom Miller to give my uncle Ro and me a dearborn
to ourselves, while he drove his wife, Kitty and a _help_, as far as the
"Little Neest," in a two-horse vehicle that was better adapted to such a
freight. Thus disposed of, then, we all left the place in company, just
as the clo