Rodney listened with open-eyed attention to Clark’s 27 glowing accounts of fertile lands apparently only waiting for a little enterprise to be developed into a perfect paradise.
The boy saw that his father was much interested, but hesitated, saying that circumstances were such that he must remain where he was for a few years. Rodney thought he knew the reason but said nothing.
“Perhaps you may yet see your way clear, Mr. Allison,” said Clark on leaving. “I expect to pass this way again in a few days, and will call to see if you haven’t changed your mind.”
After the caller was gone Rodney said: “Father, I’ll go to Monticello, to-morrow if I may. You know Mr. Jefferson invited me.”
“Glad to have you, my boy.”
The morning gave promise of a beautiful day. By the time Rodney came to the hill, up which the road led to Mr. Jefferson’s residence, the sun shone hotly and the dust lay thick, but the boy’s thoughts were on the visit, and his heart beat quickly.
The country round about is hilly, but “Little Mountain,” as the hill was called before Jefferson gave it the Italian name, Monticello, was queen of them all, though Carter’s Mountain, a short distance west, is somewhat larger.
Rodney always remembered that morning in May, when Nat “single-footed” the hill without stopping. No knight ever stormed a castle, no pilgrim ever approached a shrine with greater earnestness. So eager was he that he did not fully appreciate the glorious 28 beauties of the landscape. The Rivanna River looked like a ribbon of silvery satin laid on green velvet, all in striking contrast with the red soil of the tilled fields. The Blue Ridge mountains, nearly fifty miles distant, were, in the clear air, a massive and misty blue background for the picturesque Ragged Mountains near at hand.
There was little about such small portion of the house as was then built to indicate to the boy what its future charms would be. Later, when Mr. Jefferson talked with him, and explained the plans he had made, Rodney understood and admired what, after thirty years in building, thousands have since admired, the beautiful “Monticello.”
Mr. Jefferson was found in his garden, working among his early vegetables. His face was red from sunburn and he was dressed in a blue coat, gray waistcoat and green knee breeches. He recognized the lad at once, and greeted him pleasantly. He had been measuring the growth of various plants, during stated periods, and with different fertilizers, and was recording these facts in his neat handwriting, such as four years later was to appear on the famous Declaration of Independence.