"He was a great man!" said the young man presently.
The girl nodded. No one ever sat thus, the buildings of the University stretching at their feet, Monticello gleaming on its mountain crest and asked the name of the man they lauded.
By and by she asked a question. "For what is Jefferson noted?"
"For being the founder of the democratic—"
"I thought so!" indignantly.
"Indeed! Oh! for founding the University of Virginia."
"You know your lesson quite well," with a little tinge of sarcasm; "if you stay here long enough you'll find he did a great many other things. Ah! he knew the beautiful. Look! were there ever any buildings more in harmony, more exquisite in design, more fitted for living—Pshaw!" she broke off petulantly at the young man's laugh, "you've made me boast! You've seen Monticello?" she asked a little haughtily, as she straightened from her leaning position.
"Of course."
The girl's eyes darkened as she stood looking down the campus from her point of vantage, and though she was too proud to speak again of its beauty—for it was her home—the young man's glances followed hers and he noted it all; the inner quadrangle framed in its buildings of quaint architecture, the velvet green of the campus, set with maples, and dipping thrice and then deeply toward the gleaming buildings at the end; the long stretch of corridors and white pillars, the professors' houses rising two-storied above the students' homes: and about these, outside, the wide grounds, the embowering trees, yellow and russet and red; rows of cottages showing their tops here and there; and far off, rimming it all, the misty, hazy mountain tops.