ashington, yet with his ample fortune he was always short of ready
money. He was never pressed by suit, however, for his good nature
was as irresistible as the man was fascinating; the dun who came
with a bill and a frown went away with a smile and--his bill. He
lived to be seventy-six years of age, when--like the patriarchs of
old--he died, full of honor and greatness, and, leaving no direct
issue, his property passed into the hands of collateral heirs.
They were sensible heirs, who did not seek to intervention of courts
and lawyers for a distribution of their interests, but wisely and
amicably distributed them themselves. The law, however, was
determined not to be entirely shunned. If the heirs would not go
to law, the law was accommodating--it would come to them, and it
came with a romance.

One day, soon after the death of Major Van Ness, a buxom, matronly
looking dame, in heavy mourning and with tear-dimmed eyes, came
upon the scene and claimed a share of the estate. They naturally
inquired her name and address, and she modestly, but firmly, told
them she was the widow of the deceased by virtue of a clandestine
marriage which had occurred in Philadelphia. The heirs mistook
her modesty for an attempt at blackmail, and acted as defendants
in the suit which she instituted. The trial is one of the celebrated
cases of the District of Columbia. It lasted upward of a month.
Eminent counsel were in it, and many witnesses came to prove the
truth of opposite facts. There was no doubt that Van Ness had
known the widow and had visited her, for love letters were read in
court from him to her; there was no doubt that some ceremony,
sanctioned by a minister's presence, had been performed and assisted
at by both together, but the requisite formalities to constitute
a valid marriage were not fully proven, and the jury disagreed.
The matronly dame in heavy mourning did not murmur: luck was against
her, and she accepted her luck. She left Washington and never
pressed her suit to a second trial, nor further harassed the heirs.

Miss Ann G. Wright, a cousin of Mrs. Van Ness, created a great
sensation in Washington by coming to her house for a home. She
was a runaway nun from the Convent of the Visitation in Georgetown,
and had been known in the community as Sister Gertrude. No one
ever knew rightly the cause of her sudden departure from the convent.
Some said it was disappointed ambition in not being appointed
superiores