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"Yes," replied Aunt Phillis, "I specs you will, if you's well watched. Hark, he gwine to be sont for, I hears.”

"Ef Hark come foolin,' 'long wid me," replied Aunt Betty, "he gwine to see sumpin. I soon send all sich dandy niggers to hoein' 'taters in de land o' Nod," and off she flew to her dishes, which she handled in the most polished style.

Washington's chief cook at Philadelphia, during the two terms of the presidency, "was named Hercules, and familiarly termed Uncle Harkless. Trained in the mysteries of his art from early youth, and in the palmy days of Virginia, when her thousand chimneys smoked to indicate the generous hospitality that reigned throughout the whole length and breadth of her wide domain, Uncle Harkless was at the period of the first presidency, as highly accomplished a proficient in the culinary art as could be found in the United States. He was a dark-brown man, little, if any, above the usual size, yet possessed of such great muscular power as to enable him to be compared with his namesake of fabulous history.

"The chief cook gloried in the cleanliness and nicety of his kitchen. Under his iron discipline, wo to his underlings if speck or spot could be discerned on the tables or dressers, or if the utensils did not shine like polished silver. With the luckless wights who had offended in these particulars, there was no arrest of punishment, for judgment and execution went hand in hand. The steward, and indeed the whole household, treated the chief cook with much respect, as well for his valuable services as for his general good character and pleasing manners.

"It was while preparing the Thursday, or Congress dinner, that Uncle Harkless shone in all his splendor. During his labors upon this banquet, he required some half dozen aprons, and napkins out of number. It was surprising the order and discipline that was observed in so bustling a scene. His underlings flew in all directions to execute his orders, while he, the great master-spirit, seemed to possess the power of ubiquity and to be everywhere at the same moment. When the steward in snow-white apron, silk shorts and stockings, and hair in full powder, placed the first dish on the table, the clock being on the stroke of four, the 'labors of Hercules' ceased. "While the masters of the republic were engaged in discussing the savory viands of the Congress dinner, the chief cook retired to make

his toilet for an evening promenade. His perquisites from the slops of the kitchen were from one to two hundred dollars a year. Though homely in person, he lavished most of these large avails upon dress. In making his toilet, his linen was of unexceptionable whiteness and quality, then black silk shorts, ditto waistcoat, ditto stockings, shoes highly polished, with large buckles covering a considerable part of the foot, blue cloth coat with velvet collar and bright metal buttons, a long watch chain dangling from his fob, a cocked hat, and gold-headed cane, completed the grand costume of the celebrated dandy of the President's kitchen.

"Thus arrayed, the chief cook invariably passed out at the front door, the porter making a low bow, which was promptly returned. Joining his brother loungers of the pave, he proceeded up market street, attracting considerable attention, that street being, in the old times, the resort where fashionables 'did most congregate.' Many were not a little surprised on beholding so extraordinary a personage, while others who knew him would make a formal and respectful bow, that they might receive in turn the salute of one of the most polished gentlemen and the veriest dandy of sixty years ago.”

On the wedding night, Thomas, the ex-turkey-driver of '97, now a skillful assistant in Frank's department, had the pleasure of seeing the "banquet table sot," and "neber seed the likes afore. It was 'yand all wonders in dis world 'cep one," and that was when "Mose and Tom, and another nigger, and two more hounds, kotch another raccoon and two more pole-cats."

"Marse, he sot in one corner," said an old servant that enjoyed a peep, "and Missus, she sot siden him; Miss Nelly, she sot in tudder corner, and Marse Lewis, he sot siden her, and de party eat and drunk, and played, and danced all ober de house till most day-light.'

"It was my intention before this," writes one of the guests, "to have given some little account of the wedding, (which was accomplished without the ceremony of the ring,) of the supper, &c., which, from the commodiousness of the parlor, gave it a most pleasing appearance. The table was in the form of a T, at which near forty persons sat down, and was well spread with the choicest viands, wines, pastry, &c-plenty without profusion, and neatly arranged. The minister partook, and stayed to cut up a large pound-cake, of about twelve pounds, part of which he ran through a ring and

afforded some amusement to the groomsmen and bridesmaids, who wrapped it up in paper, and handed it round to the company, reserving enough of the magic-cake for their succeeding slumbers— but what were their dreams, I already presume you neither expect to hear, nor that it would be in my power to tell-nay, I fancy you must smile at the idea when I am at this moment so much puzzled to give any tolerable detail of what occupied both my hands, and that without intermission, for a week. While the groomsmen were employed in making punch, and introducing the gentlemen to the banquet, consisting of two large rounds of beef, several tongues, and hams with plenty of olives, bread, wine and cheese, our bridesmaids in the adjoining room, sung and played beautifully. Tea, lemonade and wine, music and a country dance, closed the scene, and the company to the number of about fifty, began to go."

On the next evening after the wedding, there assembled on the lawn, within hearing of the bride and bridegroom, the famous choir of Little Jack, to give a serenade. Though the night air was keen and frosty, yet the rich notes of the native African voice rang harmoniously, soaring over the lofty trees around the happy mansion of Mount Vernon. Washington had now reached the 67th anniversary of his birth, his accomplished adopted daughter was now settled in life, and to celebrate these events in the history of the Mount, the old colonial bridal song, dating long before the revolution, was beautifully sung and repeated by the choir. A verse or two:

"Down de vale o' life I tends,

Whar hoary age creeps slowly on;
And wid de burdening thought I bends,
Dat youf and all its joys am gone.
"Let mopin' monks and ramblin' rakes,
De joys ob wedded life deride;
Dar 'pinions rise from gross mistakes,
Unbridled brains and gloomy pride.

"Thy sacred sweets, O 'nubial love,
Flow from de 'fections more refined;
De 'fections sacred to de dove,

Heroic, constant, warm and kind.

"Hail! holy flame! hail! sacred tie,
What binds two gentle souls in one;
On equal wings dar sorrows fly,

In equal streams dar pleasures run.
"Dar duties still dar pleasures bring,
Hence joys in quick succession come;
A queen am she, he am a king,

And dar dominion am dar home."

Here a white handkerchief was waved from an upper window of the mansion, approving the serenade and the choir full of joy at its appearance, retired to their homes for the night.

The spring of '99 opened with unusual beauty and life at Mount Vernon, and every creature, full of melody, appeared to enjoy a perfect pleasure. A life unknown to other estates was lived and enjoyed under the mild and firm rule of the Chief of the Mount, and a cheerful spirit performed more than half the labor in the fields, and at the mansion. It was during this spring that a song called the "Wren Song, or Washington rules in the great Western World,” was written, and sung by the choirs at Mount Vernon; and, like Hail Columbia of the previous year, it promised to eclipse all other songs for the season. The breezes of the Mount had borne along many a thrilling melody and comic strain, but the "Wren Song," combining all the wild notes of the native African, beautifully blended, gave out tones of the grave anthem, the comic carol, and the sprightly notes of the wren, singularly reduced to the most perfect harmony. The tune of the Wren Song has been lost in the din of time, but the words almost as true as the original, are still repeated, though more than half a century has left its traces on the brain that has preserved them. A few lines are remembered

Chitter litter, chitter litter, lee-lee-lee,

Old Britain is conquered, Columbia is free;

Our foes have been vanquished, the tyrant is hurled,
And Washington rules in the great western world;
Sounds of our freedom the breezes are bringing,
The wren in the orchard of Liberty is singing.
He lights on the limb of a hollow peach tree,
And there sings a sonnet, Columbia is free.

Chorus.-Cheer up Jinny! come into tea,

The peach tree's blooming, chitter litter, lee;

Chitter litter, chitter litter, lee-lee-lee,
Peach orchard, ree-ree-ree

Chitter litter, chitter litter, lee-lee-lee,

Our children are living our freedom to see,

Our standard is planted, our banner unfurled,
And Washington rules in the great western world;
Nobly the emblem of freedom is flying,

The thunder of war in the distance is dying;

But France, that proud nation, may yet live to see The strength of our navy-Columbia is free.

Chitter litter, chitter litter, lee-lee-lee,

Our heroes immortal, the brave and the free;
The wheels of our great revolution have whirled,
And Washington rules in the great western world;
From ocean to ocean our standard is planting,
And "long live the Chief," a free people are chanting;
The ships of our commerce shall cover the sea,
Like swift-shooting stars, for Columbia is free.

Chitter litter, chitter litter, lec-lee-lee,
Come rest in the shade of our Liberty tree;
By treason's sirocco no leaf shall be curled,
For Washington rules in the great western world.
Our freedom has set the crowned head to reflecting,
And men the divine right of kings are rejecting,
And claiming our land an asylum to be,
For all the oppressed, for Columbia is free.

Chitter litter, chitter litter, lee-lee-lee,

A warning to traitors forever shall be,
Our bright starry banner will never be furled,
For Washington rules in the great western world;
The stcel of Columbia will ever be gleaming,
As long as an Arnold of treason is dreaming;
Then take root and flourish, O Liberty tree!
For Washington still lives-Columbia is free.

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