[Illustration:  I began to realize that there was no one coming; that no one had opened the door; that it had begun to swing immediately upon my saying the word “ghosts”]

[Illustration:  Harpers Ferry is an entrancing old town; a drowsy place piled up beautifully yet carelessly upon terraced roads clinging to steep hillsides]

[Illustration:  “What’s the matter with him?” I asked, stopping]

[Illustration:  When I came down, dressed for riding, my companion was making a drawing; the four young ladies were with him, none of them in riding habits]

[Illustration:  Claymont Court is one of the old Washington houses.  But in all its history it has never been a happier home or a more interesting one than it is to-day]

[Illustration:  Chatham, the old Fitzhugh house, now the residence of Mark Sullivan.  Washington, Madison, Monroe, Washington Irving, Lee and Lincoln have known the shelter of its roof]

[Illustration:  Monticello stands on a lofty hilltop, with vistas, between trees of neighboring valleys, hills, and mountains]

[Illustration:  Like Venice, the University of Virginia should first be seen by moonlight]

[Illustration:  One party was stationed on the top of an old-time mail-coach bearing the significant initials “F.F.V.”]

[Illustration:  The Piedmont Hunt Race Meet—­There is a distinct note of histrionism about many of the rich Americans who “go in for” elaborate ruralness, and there is a touch of it, also, about ultra-"horsey” people]

[Illustration:  The southern negro is the world’s peasant supreme]

[Illustration:  The Country Club of Virginia, out to the west of Richmond, is one of the most charming clubs of its kind in the United States]

[Illustration:  Judge Crutchfield—­a white-haired, hook-nosed man of more than seventy, peering over his eyeglasses with a look of shrewd, merciless divination]

[Illustration:  Negro women squatting upon boxes in old shadowy lofts stem the tobacco leaves]

[Illustration:  THE JUDGE:  What did he do, Mandy?

THE WIFE:  Jedge, he come bustin’ in, an’ he come so fas’ he untook de do’ off’n de hinges!]

[Illustration:  Some genuine old-time New York ferryboats help to complete the illusion that Norfolk is New York]

[Illustration:  “The Southern Statesman who serves his section best, serves the country best.”]

[Illustration:  St. Philip’s is the more beautiful for the open space before it, and the graceful outward bend of Church Street in deference to the projecting portico]

[Illustration:  Or, opposite St. Philip’s, a perfect example of the rude architecture of an old French village; stucco walls, tinted and chipped, red tile roofs and all]

[Illustration:  In the doorway and gates of the Smyth house, in Legare Street, I was struck with a Venetian suggestion]

[Illustration:  Nor is the Charleston background a mere arras of recollection.  It exists everywhere in the wood and brick and stone of ancient and beautiful buildings, in iron grilles and balconies unrivalled in any other American city....]