You see the room in which our great and
illustrious Franklin stayed and marvel at the glorious Hall of
Mirrors where the Peace Conference met. Yet you are glad to get
out and contemplate that wonderful avenue of European elms whose
straight round trunks, bearing innumerable branches which divide
again and again, form glorious fountain-like crests of verdure.
But with what a different feeling you look upon the home of
Washington. Here, too, visitors find in the wonderful trees a
symbol of something serene, protective, sacred, so like the man
who once walked beneath them.
"The dawn of great events in which Washington was to play such
an important part began to blow on the eastern horizon of New
England." From the ocean-bordered shores were faint streaks of
light that ere long began to deepen into hues of a sanguine
color that seemed to presage a tempest. At first the sound was
like the faint lisping murmur of pines along the shore or the
sobbing surf as it retreated from the charge it made; but ere
long it broke forth in loud, angry tones like the wailing of
branches on a stormy night or the booming breakers on the stern
rocks of her rugged coast, until the dwellers of the interior
heard the ominous sound and made ready to defend those
inalienable rights of man, liberty and justice.
The aeolian melodies of freedom were heard by the Master of
Mount Vernon as he walked beneath his liberty loving trees.
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