ass this way again in a few days, and will call
to see if you haven't changed your mind."

After the caller was gone Rodney said: "Father, I'll go to Monticello,
to-morrow if I may. You know Mr. Jefferson invited me."

"Glad to have you, my boy."

The morning gave promise of a beautiful day. By the time Rodney came
to the hill, up which the road led to Mr. Jefferson's residence, the
sun shone hotly and the dust lay thick, but the boy's thoughts were on
the visit, and his heart beat quickly.

The country round about is hilly, but "Little Mountain," as the hill
was called before Jefferson gave it the Italian name, Monticello, was
queen of them all, though Carter's Mountain, a short distance west, is
somewhat larger.

Rodney always remembered that morning in May, when Nat "single-footed"
the hill without stopping. No knight ever stormed a castle, no pilgrim
ever approached a shrine with greater earnestness. So eager was he
that he did not fully appreciate the glorious beauties of the
landscape. The Rivanna River looked like a ribbon of silvery satin
laid on green velvet, all in striking contrast with the red soil of
the tilled fields. The Blue Ridge mountains, nearly fifty miles
distant, were, in the clear air, a massive and misty blue background
for the picturesque Ragged Mountains near at hand.

There was little about such small portion of the house as was then
built to indicate to the boy what its future charms would be. Later,
when Mr. Jefferson talked with him, and explained the plans he had
made, Rodney understood and admired what, after thirty years in
building, thousands have since admired, the beautiful "Monticello."

Mr. Jefferson was found in his garden, working among his early
vegetables. His face was red from sunburn and he was dressed in a blue
coat, gray waistcoat and green knee breeches. He recognized the lad at
once, and greeted him pleasantly. He had been measuring the growth of
various plants, during stated periods, and with different fertilizers,
and was recording these facts in his neat handwriting, such as four
years later was to appear on the famous Declaration of Independence.

"That's a fine colt you have there," he exclaimed with enthusiasm, as
he noted the horse Rodney had ridden, and which was being held by a
small black boy.

"Nat is a fine animal, sir."

"And well groomed."

"I care for him myself. He belongs to me, for father gave him to me
when he was a little fellow. He has le