ives upon it and who conducts a farm on
part of its acres. She and her husband generously gave the portion of
the island containing the church yard to the Society for the
Preservation of the Antiquities of Virginia. It is less than fifteen
years since the restoration and care of the old Jamestown settlement
site has been undertaken. Before that the graveyard was neglected and
overgrown, the foundations of the old church were falling to pieces, and
the whole place was utterly forlorn and forsaken.

From Williamsburg we drive on to Yorktown, now a small village. One
short street, a few old houses, a shop and a little inn or two are all
that remain of Yorktown. No railroad reaches it, and it is therefore
rather inaccessible to tourists. The village is most nobly situated on a
high bluff overlooking the broad waters of the York River, which stretch
away like a great bay. The Yorktown monument, quite as fine and imposing
a shaft as the Jamestown one, stands high on the river bank in a
striking and dramatic situation. We hear a pretty story of how the
President of the United States came down with a party of gentlemen some
months ago and walked about the village. No one recognized him save a
young girl of fourteen who volunteered her services as a guide, took the
party about and explained to them the points of interest. They remained
with her nearly two hours. At the end of this time when they were
bidding her farewell, she said, nodding to the President, "You _are_
President Wilson, are you not?" We drive out from the village to an old
farmhouse known as the "Moore House," where terms of capitulation were
drawn up after the surrender of Lord Cornwallis. We go into the room
where the terms were made, and feel that we are really in the birthplace
of our great nation.

From Yorktown we cross by ferry to Gloucester County, for we purpose to
see something of the famous section known as Tidewater Virginia. As
Tidewater on Chesapeake Bay is a region where creeks and inlets make a
thousand indentations in the coast, the ideal way to see it all would be
by motor boat. But our purpose is to drive along the sandy roads and
through the forests of Gloucester County for some thirty miles, until we
reach the region of Mobjack Bay. As we drive along we pass many negroes,
respectable looking people in comfortable buggies and light open wagons.
Some are driving mules, and others have very good horses. We find that
we must drive slowly, as man