brilliant social nucleus. Washington and his wife often
went there to call in their beloved post-chaise, and there was
certainly no dignitary of the time and the place who was not at one
time or another a guest there. In the course of time, the Adamses
went to a new and fine dwelling at Bush Hill on the Schuylkill. And
dear Mistress Abigail, faithful to the house of her heart, wrote
wistfully of her just-acquired home:

"It is a beautiful place, but the grand and sublime I left
at Richmond Hill" ...

In 1797, the house went to a rich foreigner named Temple. I quote the
chronicles of old New York, but can give you little information
concerning this gentleman. The only thing at all memorable or
interesting about him seems to have been the fact that he was robbed
of a large quantity of money and valuables while at the Hill, that the
thieves were never discovered and that for this reason at least he
filled the local press for quite a time. His occupancy seems to have
been short, and, save for the robbery, uneventful (if he really was a
picturesque and adventurous soul, I humbly ask pardon of his ghost,
but this is all I can find out about him!)--for it was in that
self-same year that the Burrs came to live at Richmond Hill, and
Temple passed into obscurity as far as New York history is concerned.

Mrs. Burr, that older Theodosia who was the idol of Aaron Burr's life,
had died three years before, and little Theo was now the head of his
household. Have you ever read the letters that passed between these
three, by the bye? They are so quaint, so human, so tender--I believe
that you will agree with me that such reading has more of charm in it
than the most dramatic modern novel. They bemoan their aches and pains
and cheer each other up as though they were all little Theo's age.
"Passed a most tedious night," writes Mrs. Burr, and adds that she has
bought a pound of green tea for two dollars! And--"Ten thousand loves.
_Toujours la votre_ Theodosia."

Burr writes that he has felt indisposed, but is better, thanks to a
draught "composed of laudanum, nitre and other savoury drugs." When
their letters do not arrive promptly they are in despair. "Stage after
stage without a line!" complains Theodosia the mother, in one
feverishly incoherent note. And Theodosia the daughter, even at nine
years old, had her part in this correspondence.

Her father writes her that from the writing on her last envelope, he
thought the le