“There is little to tell—­some six years after removing to Virginia, Calvert’s father and mother both suddenly died, leaving the poor boy estranged from the only relatives he had in Maryland, but, fortunately, under the guardianship of General Washington, who has been all kindness toward him.  Madame Washington would have taken him to Mount Vernon had it not been for the father’s wish that he should grow up on his own estate, alone save for the excellent tutors with whom he has always been provided.  But he has ever been warmly welcomed at Mount Vernon on long visits there, and both General and Madame Washington have become greatly attached to him.  It was through them I first knew and liked him, and he has passed many, I hope not unhappy, weeks at Monticello with me since.  ’Tis that curious and melancholy resemblance in their fate—­both orphaned and solitary—­which, I fancy, had much to do with the firm friendship that has sprung up between Colonel Hamilton and Calvert.  But though in appearance and circumstance they resemble each other, in mental characteristics they are opposites.  Calvert has none of Hamilton’s brilliancy of intellect and vividness of imagination” (for whatever their bitter disagreements were later, Mr. Jefferson, then and for many years afterward, was always ready to acknowledge and admire Hamilton’s superb genius), “but he is of a profound logical order of intelligence; he has good judgment and discretion, indomitable will power, and a nobility of aim and faithfulness of purpose that are as rare as they are admirable.  I can conceive of no circumstances in which he might be placed where his reliability and firmness would prove inadequate to the occasion.”

“His face bears out what you tell me of him, Mr. Jefferson,” assented the young artist, who was regarding Calvert with increasing interest.  “Tis a fine countenance, and I shall not be happy until I have transferred it to canvas.  I shall have to beg a few sittings of Calvert of Strathore!”

Mr. Jefferson smiled.  “I am afraid, Mr. Stuart, that you will find it difficult to persuade Ned that he has a ‘fine countenance’!  He is the soul of modesty as he is the soul of truth and honor.”  He stopped and looked affectionately at young Calvert, who was still beside Madame Carr, unconscious of the close scrutiny he was undergoing.  “I hardly know how to describe him to you,” continued Mr. Jefferson, meditatively.  “His is a noble and lovable character.  I never look at him but these lines from Horace come to my mind—­’Quam desederio sit pudor aut modus tam cari capitis’!  I can only say that had I been blessed with a son,” and he sighed as he spoke, “I would have wished him to be like Edward Calvert, and, believe me, ’tis not partiality that makes me speak of him in such fashion.  General Washington and Colonel Hamilton and Monsieur de Lafayette, under whom he served at Yorktown, hold him as I do.  Gentle and tractable as he is, the lad has plenty of spirit, and ran away