It was the house of a man who had wrenched half a continent from Great Britain; the English Tory had no intention whatever of bowing the knee.

On the other hand, it was the house of a soldier and a gentleman, representing old English traditions, tastes, and manners.

No modern blatancy, no Yankee smartness anywhere.

Simplicity and moderate wealth, combined with culture--witness the books of the library--with land-owning, a family coach, and church on Sundays: these things the Englishman understood.
Only the slaves, in the picture of Mount Vernon's past, were strange to him.
They stood at length in the death-chamber, with its low white bed, and its balcony overlooking the river.
"This, ladies, is the room in which General Washington died," said the curator, patiently repeating the familiar sentence.

"It is, of course, on that account sacred to every true American." He bowed his head instinctively as he spoke.