“ Ashland ” 
Sheffield plate and silver at “Ashland,” are charming 
examples of the best art. 
Beyond the drawing-room—in the north wing— 
is the library, which is a small octagonal room, 
paneled with ash cut from the estate. The book¬ 
cases built in the wall are finished at the top by deep 
lunette embrasures, in one of which is a bust of Henry 
Clay. The high vaulted ceiling gives dignity and 
proportion to this room which might otherwise be 
insignificant. The table and chair—which is done 
in buffed leather—are heirlooms of those early days; 
the inkstand on the small desk is the one Mr. Clay 
used. 
Much of the furniture which belonged to “Ash¬ 
land” is now in the possession of Mrs. John M. 
Clay, who lives on an adjoining estate. The charm¬ 
ing old four-post bed with a tester, done so simply 
in a thin figured silk, is the one Henry Clay slept in 
at “Ashland.” The group of furniture, wearing 
still the black haircloth covering it wore in those 
early days, is strong and symmetrical—the swan arm¬ 
chair being particularly fine. 
This sofa recalls one in the famous portrait of 
Madame Recamier by David, which hangs in the 
Louvre; some of its lines are distinctly those of the 
chaise longue , though its counterpart almost, appears 
in Lockwood’s “ Colonial Furniture in America ” as 
an “ Empire sofa.” The bust of Mr. Clay is by 
his famous sculptor friend, Joel T. Hart. 
In the hall over the drawing-room door is a por¬ 
trait of Henry Clay done when he was forty-three 
years old. This portrait is also the work of the 
Kentucky artist, Matthew H. Jouett; latterly these 
portraits by Jouett are much appreciated; this one, 
being a particularly pleasing likeness, has been 
often photographed. 
The view from “Ashland”—commanding as it 
does a wide sweep of undulating blue-grass meadows 
and surrounded as it is by splendid forest trees—is 
one of great beauty. 
The pathway of tan-bark, where Mr. Clay’s 
biographers love to picture him walking with bowed 
head deeply engrossed in affairs of state, is left intact. 
It wanders off to the left of the house, an enticing 
avenue with the periwinkle growing saucily over the 
edges, and the sun peeping through the pines and 
cedars, with here and there a redbud or flowering 
dogwood. 
The garden and dairy which were Mrs. Clay’s 
especial care, ranked in those days among the best, 
2I 5 
