I am now nearing the close of a life which had had its trials and
disappointments, its struggles with weak health and with unsatisfying
labor. But these mostly came in the earlier years, and were met with
courage, an ever fresh-springing hope, and a buoyant spirit that would
not be intimidated. On the whole, as one looks back through the long
vista, much more of good than of evil fell to his lot. His life had been
full of interesting experiences, and one of, perhaps, unusual happiness.
At the last there came to pass the fulfilment of a dream in which he had
long indulged. He became the possessor of a beautiful estate containing
what he most desired, and with surroundings and associations dear to his
heart.

He had enjoyed The Holt, his New Jersey home, and was much interested in
improving it. His neighbors and friends there were valued companions.
But in his heart there had always been a longing for a home, not
suburban--a place in the _real_ country, and with more land. Finally,
the time came when he felt that he could gratify this longing. He liked
the Virginia climate, and decided to look for a place somewhere in that
State, not far from the city of Washington. After a rather prolonged
search, we one day lighted upon Claymont, in the Shenandoah Valley. It
won our hearts, and ended our search. It had absolutely everything that
Mr. Stockton coveted. He bought it at once, and we moved into it as
speedily as possible.

Claymont is a handsome colonial residence, "with all modern
improvements"--an unusual combination. It lies near the historic old
town of Charles Town, in West Virginia, near Harpers Ferry. Claymont is
itself an historic place. The land was first owned by "the Father of his
Country." This great personage designed the house, with its main
building, two cottages (or lodges), and courtyards, for his nephew