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Updated: May 2, 2025
SPECIAL HISTORIES. Standard lives of Washington, especially Sparks, Marshall, and Irving; C. F. Adams, Life of John Adams; Henry Adams, Albert Gallatin; H. C. Lodge, Washington, II. 129-269; J. T. Morse, Jefferson, 146-208, and John Adams, 241-310; G. Pellew, John Jay, 262-339; S. H. Gay, Madison, 193-251; George Gibbs, Administrations of Washington and Adams, I., II.; W. H. Trescott, Diplomatic History; T. Lyman, Diplomacy; J. C. Hamilton, Republic, V., VI.
"Jimmie, what were you doing in the back garden yesterday you and the other boys to Henry?" "We weren't doing anything, pa." Trescott looked sternly into the raised eyes of his son. "Are you sure you were not annoying him in any way? Now what were you doing, exactly?"
Dating from the night of Trescott's death, and therefore covering the period of Jim's absence, I could not fail to notice the renewed ardor with which Cornish devoted himself to the Trescott family. Alice and I, on our frequent visits, found him at their home so much that I was forced to the conclusion that he must have had some encouragement.
"There is time," said Alice, "for that to develop yet." Not that everything happened as we wished. Indeed, some things gave us much anxiety. Bill Trescott, for instance, began at last to show signs of that going up in the air which Jim had said we must keep him from.
"Where is your mother, Jimmie?" asked Trescott. "I don't know, pa," answered the boy. "I think she is up-stairs." Trescott went to the foot of the stairs and called, but there came no answer. Seeing that the door of the little drawing-room was open, he entered. The room was bathed in the half-light that came from the four dull panes of mica in the front of the great stove.
It was broken by John Twelve, the wholesale grocer, who was worth $400,000, and reported to be worth over a million. "Well, doctor," he said, with a short laugh, "I suppose we might as well admit at once that we've come to interfere in something which is none of our business." "Why, what is it?" asked Trescott, again looking from one face to another.
"I'm going down to the telegraph-office with this," said I; "can I take yours, too?" When I handed the messages in, the man who received them insisted on my reading them over with him to make sure of correct transmission. There was one to Mr. Hinckley, one to Mr. Ballard, and two to Miss Josephine Trescott. One ran thus, "Success seems assured. Rejoice with me.
His wife and daughter had carefully nursed him through the fever, as Dr. Aylesbury called it, and for two weeks Mr. Trescott was seen by no one else. Then from our windows Alice and I could see him about his grounds, at work amongst his shrubbery, or busying himself with his horses and carriages.
Barr-Smith, who listened absorbedly to the conversation of Mrs. Hinckley, filling every pause with a husky "Quite so!" On the other sat Josie Trescott, who was smiling upon a very tall and spare old man who wore a beautiful white mustache and imperial. I had never met him, but I knew him for General Lattimore.
Oh, Al, what's the good of being able to convince and control every one else, if you are always further off than Kamschatka with the only one for whose feelings you really care?" "I don't think it struck her in that way at all," said I. "She could see how it was, and did, whatever her mother may think. But what possessed Lattimore to tell Mrs. Trescott that Cornish story?"
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