Tour from Hew York to Mount Vernon. 
375 
that of Washington does not exist in the United States* 
nor one where an intelligent and a high order of hus¬ 
bandry would find a more abundant reward. Shame 
on the sloth and ignorance that thus encircles the capi¬ 
tal of our nation ! Were I alone in this opinion, I 
should distrust my own judgment;—but on comparing 
notes with numerous strangers, members of Congress, 
and residents of many years in the city, I find that 
there is no mistake in the matter. It is, however, 
some relief to remark, that within the last ten years a 
few individuals of enterprise and foresight have pur¬ 
chased considerable tracts of land in the neighborhood, 
and have commenced an improved cultivation ; and by 
the partial developments already made, are fully satis¬ 
fied of the utility and profits of their investments. 
Lands well wooded, delightfully situated, possessing a 
naturally good soil, and requiring but the application 
of a correct mode of culture to make them equally 
valuable and productive to any farms in the country, 
may be bought within five to ten miles of the city of 
Washington for eight and ten dollars per acre ! and 
within an hour’s drive of perhaps the very best market 
in the country. Lime is abundant in the vicinity, and 
not a doubt can exist that with its aid the best results 
will follow. Look at the neighborhood of Boston, na¬ 
turally one of the most sterile and forbidding soils to 
the agriculturist imaginable. Yet by a diligent culti¬ 
vation, how productive—how beautiful! Yet far in¬ 
ferior in natural capabilities to that of Washington. 
But this state of things must change. The school¬ 
master in husbandry, as well as in political and moral 
science, is abroad, and all this salubrious region will 
ere long bear the print of his footsteps. 
A Ride to Mount Vernon,— It was twenty-five 
years since I had seen the last residence of the Father 
of his country, and then when almost a boy. On a 
fine sunny May morning I embarked in the steamboat 
for Alexandria. On my way thither—an hour’s sail 
on the Potomac, a truly noble and beautiful river, 
brought me to Alexandria, a sober-looking, well-built, 
and apparently declining city, of much note in the an¬ 
cient days of Old Virginia. When I before visited 
Mount Vernon, it was occupied by the late Judge 
Washington, a nephew of the General, a most estimable 
man, but who paid little or no attention to agriculture, 
and barely kept the estate in repair, more perhaps 
from a pious feeling of veneration to the memory of 
his illustrious relative, than from any revenue that he 
derived from it. 
I well remembered the feeling of surprise which almost 
overwhelmed me when in my youthful visit I first saw on 
the outskirts of the estate, its dilapidated fences; its 
stunted, straggling woodlands, its neglected cultivation, 
and its apparent poverty of soil. Yet as the last resting- 
place of the greatest man of his age, or of his country, it 
had become so hallowed in my early recollections, that, 
notwithstanding all these disappointments, when I ap¬ 
proached the dwelling, after wandering a mile through 
a ruined old park, I was enraptured with the quiet 
beauty of the home grounds which enclose the ancient 
mansion, and gazed for hours from the charmingly for¬ 
ested lawn in front, which looks out for miles on the 
wide Potomac. Here too, was much good cultivation ; 
orchards, fields of grain, meadows, and pastures lay 
about the domain, and the garden was richly stocked 
with rare and valuable plants, as well as the necessary 
family vegetables; while extensive green-houses dis¬ 
played luxuriant varieties of exotic fruits, magnificent 
and beautiful flowers, and curious specimens of tropi¬ 
cal plants. Soon after that period, Judge Washington 
ceased to exist* and the place passed into the hands of 
his nephew, the late John A. Washington of Upper 
Virginia. But a very few years after removing to 
Mount Vernon, this amiable gentleman died, leaving a 
widow with a young family, and their household ser v- 
ants, the sole occupants of the estate. At the time of 
my visit they were absent, and I was told that the estate 
was now left in the possession of the eldest son of this 
family, yet quite a youth, and that the mother and her 
still young family were about returning to their old 
residence in the Shenandoah Valley. 
From Alexandria to Mount Vernon, the country is 
finely cultivated for two or three miles out of town, but 
farther on, the farms become gradually more neglected, 
until for miles before Mount Vernon is reached, the 
country with an occasional exception is almost a mo¬ 
notonous waste. The Mount Vernon estate now com¬ 
prises but a small part of the extensive domain which 
it embraced in the days of its illustrious proprietor, 
when it extended for several miles on the high road 
that passed along and back from the river. The once 
productive and well cultivated fields are now thrown 
open and abandoned, covered by a stinted growth of 
wild bushes, and straggling woods, washed by unsightly 
gullies; and after entering the once beautiful park 
which approaches the home grounds and mansion, the 
highway, for a mile, after passing the crumbling por¬ 
ter’s lodge at the gate, is scarcely passable, so washed 
is its narrow carriage way by the rains and neglected 
water courses of nearly half a century. A few wretched 
cattle were picking a more wretched subsistence from 
the stinted broom grass that grew in neglected patches 
here and there, and a score or two of gaunt, long-tailed 
sheep were shifting as best they could for a scanty liv¬ 
ing, among the bushes and tangled briars which grew 
among the scattered wood, filling the mind with ideas 
of misery and utter desolation. What a contrast was 
this to the pictures of thrifty husbandry, comfort, and 
abundance, of which I had so often heard in my early 
years, and that existed in the days of its possession and 
cultivation by General Washington; reputed, as indeed 
he really was, one of the best and most skilful of ma¬ 
nagers ! Passing on to the numerous buildings which 
once formed the family residence, the servants’ lodges 
which skirt the road were in ruins. The green-houses 
had years ago been burned to the ground, and not even 
the shattered fragments removed. The walled terraces 
which skirted the high grounds where stands the old 
mansion were all tumbled into decay, and the old house 
itself stood in moaning desolation among the general 
ruin. Neglect and dilapidation stood out prominent 
as the reigning genius of the place, and I wandered 
about sorrowful and dejected at the mournful appear¬ 
ance of all around me. Immediately around the house 
itself were a few enclosures, but driven by the en¬ 
croaching wild vines and brush-wood into a scanty and 
restricted compass. In these were some tolerable 
crops of young grain, and meadows, and pastures. 
The garden was supplied with a few vegetables for 
family use, and the once brave and luxuriant old or¬ 
chard below ^he dwelling, was wild with straggling 
branches that years ago required the pruning knife: 
and the walls that enclosed it were almost hemmed in, 
and covered with an unsightly growth of noxious 
shrubbery and weeds. The old vault, where for many 
years lay the last remains of Washington, was fallen 
in and tenantless, and a new one of fcrick, and of res¬ 
pectable appearance and dimensions was built farther 
down the river, which now contains the remains of 
himself and family. 
Were I here to indulge in a record of my sensations, 
while gazing on the marble sarcophagus which con¬ 
tained the remains of him who was “ first in war, first 
in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen,” 
