high-panelled coaches drawn by four horses (such as Colonel Cary of
Ampthill boasted), and the negro grooms were busy stabling them. In the
house servants were moving about, lighting the fragrant wax candles of
myrtle-berry and seeing to the comfort of the guests. The narrow
stairway could hardly accommodate the rustling, voluminous brocades that
swept up and down them above the clicking, high-heeled shoes and dainty,
silver-clocked stockings. But there was room for all in the beautiful
octagonal hall, thirty feet square, and in the long saloon parlor, the
cost of whose inlaid satin and rosewood floor had somewhat scandalized
Mr. Jefferson's less wealthy and less artistic neighbors.

It were hard indeed to get together a gathering of more beautiful women
or more courtly, distinguished gentlemen than was assembled that evening
at Monticello. Among the latter were many of those men who had helped to
make America what she was; lawgivers, soldiers, tried statesmen who had
been of that famous Congress of '75, of which my Lord Chatham, in a
burst of uncontrollable enthusiasm, had declared that "its members had
never been excelled in solidity of reasoning, force of sagacity, and
wisdom of conclusion."

The Virginia beauties, if less modish and extravagant, as a rule, than
the belles of Philadelphia and New York, yielded to none in aristocratic
loveliness and grace and dignity of bearing. In the eyes of Mr.
Jefferson their very naturalness made them more attractive, and perhaps
it was for her sweet freshness and shy beauty that he gave the palm of
loveliness to Miss Molly Crenshawe, who had ridden over on a pillion
behind her brother from her father's neighboring estate of Edgemoor,
attended by young Carter of Redlands, who was never far away from her if
he could help it. A less partial judge than Mr. Jefferson, however,
would have found it hard to decide that she was more lovely than her