Realizing that democracy must rest upon the education of the masses, Mr. Jefferson formulated a complete system of public schools, from the primary grade on up to the State university and a public library. He was too far in advance of his time, and his plans could not be put into operation. The rich man declined to tax himself to educate the poor man's child. In the South of to-day we not only educate the poor white, but we tax ourselves heavily to educate the negroes-another advantage not enjoyed by them in Africa.

A liberal naturalization act was the work of Mr. Jefferson; and he was instrumental in effecting the removal of the State capital from Williamsburg to Richmond.

Much of Mr. Jefferson's work during this period of reformation was done at Monticello. The state of Mrs. Jefferson's health was the cause of great anxiety. A daughter, Jane, who was fragile from her birth, died in September, 1775, aged about a year and a half. A son, born in May, 1777, died in June of the same year.1

In 1779 the four thousand captives of Saratoga were sent to Virginia, and stationed near Charlottesville. Among them were many Germans, whose "divine-right" rulers of the

1 Mr. William Eleroy Curtis, in his True Jefferson, says that all of the six children of Mr. Jefferson were girls. Mr. Curtis is in error, as he so often is.

"I-and-God" sort had sold them to the foreign service.

The manner in which Mr. Jefferson set the example of treating these unfortunates kindly speaks loudly for the native generosity of his character. From lieutenants up to generals, he made them welcome to his home, his books, his grounds, his gardens, his musical instruments, his philosophical apparatus, and his hospitable board. Evenings at Monticello must have been pleasant to the captives, who talked with Jefferson, played duets with him, and enjoyed his wines, fruits, and vegetables in the free-and-easy style which he so much enjoyed. It made the major-general and the baron stare when the young subaltern got the same treatment given to themselves, just as it made the diplomats first stare, and then howl, when Jefferson, the President, practised the same rule at the Executive Mansion in 1801.

Madame de Reidesel, wife of General de Reidesel, who was one of the prisoners, says that she was cruelly insulted by the ladies of Boston; and that the wife and daughter of another royalist (Captain Fenton) were stripped naked, tarred and feathered, and paraded through the streets of that city.

Be this as it may, she was not insulted in Virginia, although she rode horseback like a man-a trying sight, in spite of all that can be said in its favor.

Among the captives were musicians, including fiddlers, and they always spoke with enthusiasm of the evening concerts at Monticello. Captain Bibby and Mr. Jefferson played duets together; and Bibby used to declare, long afterward, that Jefferson was the finest amateur performer he ever heard.

CHAPTER XVI

GOVERNOR OF VIRGINIA

WHEN Virginia got rid of Lord Dunmore, she placed Patrick Henry in the vacant place; and for three successive terms of a year each he had been Chief Magistrate.

The candidates before the Legislature to succeed Henry were Thomas Jefferson and his old friend, schoolmate, and confidential correspondent John Page, in whose cupola at Rosewell tradition mistakenly says that the first draft of the Declaration of Independence was written.

The contest was purely political; neither candidate took any part in it; Mr. Jefferson was elected by a few votes majority; and manly John Page wrote him a handsome letter of congratulation.

A big-hearted patriot was this rich master of Rosewell, the largest mansion in Virginia. The time was soon to come when the American soldiers would need lead; and then the Hon. John Page was to prove the quality of his patriotism by stripping the leaden roof from his grand house in order that Washington's muskets should not lack bullets.

It was on June 1, 1779, that Mr. Jefferson en

tered upon his duties as Governor of Virginia; and his biographer gets the idea that this was one office that he afterward regretted having accepted.

Away from the halls where statesmen debate and vote; away from the quiet rooms where laws are changed and peaceful reforms planned; away from hearth and home, from sunny field, and rumbling mill, and busy mart of trade, let us look to the camp where the soldier sleeps, the road along which he marches, the battle wherein he fights. The brain may conceive, and the tongue proclaim, and the pen record; but it is the sword which must transform dreams into facts, declarations into deeds.

We look back through the gathering mists of the years, and we see, as in a dim and distant vision, the hurrying events of the great struggle for independence.

We see the dead and dying heroes of Lexington and Concord borne off the field to clean New England homes; we hear the wails of wives and children as the blood of the martyrs drips upon the floor.

We hear the shouts of fury as the minutemen run to their guns. We see the British scurry along the road back to Boston, dropping, dropping-by the dozens, by the scores, by the hundreds-between two lines of fire.