but now seen only here and there, the relic of a past generation.

Within, the Stratford House is as antique as without, and, with its
halls, corridors, wainscoting, and ancient mouldings, takes the
visitor back to the era of powder and silk stockings. Such was the
mansion to which General Harry Lee came to live after the Revolution,
and the sight of the old home must have been dear to the soldier's
heart. Here had flourished three generations of Lees, dispensing a
profuse and open-handed hospitality. In each generation some one of
the family had distinguished himself, and attracted the "best company"
to Stratford; the old walls had rung with merriment; the great door
was wide open; everybody was welcome; and one could see there a good
illustration of a long-passed manner of living, which had at least the
merit of being hearty, open-handed, and picturesque. General Harry
Lee, the careless soldier, partook of the family tendency to
hospitality; he kept open house, entertained all comers, and hence,
doubtless, sprung the pecuniary embarrassments embittering an old age
which his eminent public services should have rendered serene and
happy.

Our notice of Stratford may appear unduly long to some readers, but it
is not without a distinct reference to the subject of this volume. In
this quiet old mansion--and in the very apartment where Richard Henry
and Francis Lightfoot Lee first saw the light--Robert E. Lee was born.
The eyes of the child fell first upon the old apartments, the great
grounds, the homely scenes around the old country-house--upon the tall
Lombardy poplars and the oaks, through which passed the wind bearing
to his ears the murmur of the Potomac.

He left the old home of his family before it could have had any very