FROM the Banquet Hall we pass out to the long piazza again, as some of the doors are barred to visitors, and they may not pass from room to room, as they otherwise would.
Once more on the piazza, we gaze admiringly again, for a moment, at the lovely scene which spreads before us, and then pass on to the middle door of entrance. Passing in, we find ourselves in a large square hall in which is the wide, old fashioned stairway leading to the floor above. A few steps to the right, and we are at the door of the music room, or east parlor. The first thing that attracts our attention is a strange looking musical instrument called a Harpsichord; it has two rows of keys, one of them back and a little above the other; it looks very odd; its keys are yellow with age, and some of them are broken. The cost of this instrument was $1000.00; it was a wedding present from Washington to his step-daughter, Eleanor Custis, Miss Nellie’s fair fingers often swept its keys, doubtless, and perhaps her voice added charm for listening ears. But, however sweet her voice may have been, it has long been stilled in death, and however skilled the fair fingers, they have long ago ceased their efforts.
Dear young reader, allow me to ask you, are you using your fingers and your voice to the glory of God? You, too, will cease to speak and sing, and your hands will cease to labor. When all is recounted at the Judgment seat of Christ, will the things that you have said and done be to your praise, or to your shame? You well know that Nellie Custis cannot return to live her life again, and neither can you come back when once you are done with time and earth. You cannot, even while here, live yesterday over again, for time never rolls backward in its flight. Knowing this, what effort there should be, each day, to speak, and act and live to the glory of God. “Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.”
Now we return to the door of the music room; looking around we see various things of interest; we may not enter, for the way to this room is barricaded, so we pass on to the door of the west parlor. Here we see on the floor a carpet, which is very odd in its design.
It was made by order of Louis XVI, King of France, and was presented by him to General Washington. The ground of the carpet is dark green, and it has a large circle in the center in which is woven the American Eagle, surrounded with stars.
As time is quickly passing, we cannot wait to examine in detail the various things of interest in each room. We cross the hall, to the south, and view, in turn, the Library, Mrs. Washington’s sitting room, and the family dining room. We gaze upon the portraits and other paintings; we take a look at the large book-case with its old volumes, some of which occupied Washington in his life time, and others have been put in to replace his own which have been scattered here and there. Now we look into the pleasant family dining room, and picture to ourselves the family assembled there about a smoking dinner on a wintry day; the fire glowing and crackling in the large old fire-place, as fresh logs arc heaped upon it; and good-will and cheer crowning all, as the colored servants with willing hands and feet hasten to do the bidding of those for whom they have great esteem and love.
The china in the corner cupboard is a reproduction of the set presented to Mr. W. by the French fleet in 1792. Each piece is inscribed with the monogram M. W. in a wreath of olive and laurel, and with a chain whose links contain the names of the fifteen States of period.
And now, as we take a peep into Mrs. Washington’s sitting room, we think of the dainty work that her hands fashioned while sitting there; we think, too, of the sad, and of the happy hours that were likely spent there, for we well know that the earthly pathway is a chequered one, and that lights and shadows are found in every life. Now it is joy—now sorrow; now all is bright—again, how dark! Not so when we are done with time, and have reached eternity. There, all will be bright, or—the “blackness of darkness” will fill the scene. Then it will be “fulness of joy” which will never come to an end, or it will be “weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth,” to go on forever and ever.
Dear young reader, changing joys and sorrows will, for you, soon he ended. What then! Will you enter upon eternal blessedness, or will an unending night of woe, be yours?
Now we must take leave of you again. We may look, at another time, through the second story of the Mount Vernon Mansion.
ML 06/19/1904