Believe not that in palace walls
'Tis only there that joy you'll find;
At home with friends in your own halls
There's more content and peace of mind.
More splendor you may find 'tis true,
And glitter, show, and elevation,
But if the world of you speak true,
You prize not wealth or this high station.
Your heart's too pure, your mind too high,
To prize such empty pomp and state;
You leave such scenes without a sigh
To court the joys that on you wait.
After meeting Mr. and Mrs. Gouverneur, my future husband's father and his second wife, at Cold Spring, I renewed my acquaintance with them in Washington, where they were living in an old-fashioned house on New York Avenue, between Fourteenth and Fifteenth Streets. We often welcomed Mrs. Gouverneur as a guest at our Washington home and I was subsequently invited to visit her at their country seat, Needwood, Frederick County, Maryland, located upon a tract of land chiefly composed of large farms at one time owned exclusively by the Lee family. I quote Mrs. Gouverneur's graceful letter of invitation:—
My dear Miss Campbell,
I can not refrain from writing to remind you of your promise to us; this must be about the time fixed upon, (at least we all feel as if it was), and the season is so delightful, not to mention the strawberries which will be in great perfection this week—these reasons, together with our great desire to see you, determined me to give you warning that we are surely expecting you, and hope to hear very soon from you to say when we may send to the Knoxville depot for you. I would be so much gratified if Mrs. Eames would come with you; it would give us all the sincerest pleasure, and I do not think that such a journey would be injurious. You leave Washington to come here on the early (6 o'clock) train, get out at the Relay House, and wait until the western cars pass, (about 8 o'clock), get into them, and reach Knoxville at 12 o'clock. So you see that altogether you have only six hours, and you rest more than half an hour at the Relay House. From Knoxville our carriage brings you to "Needwood" in less than an hour. If there is any gentleman you would like to come as an escort Mr. G. and myself will be most happy to see him. Dr. Jones, you know, does intend to travel about a little and said he would come to see us; perhaps he will come with you, or Mr. Hibbard I should be most happy to see—anyone in short whom you choose to bring will be most welcome. Tell Mr. Hibbard I read his speech and admired it as I presume everyone does. Good-bye, dear Miss Campbell. I hope you will aid me in persuading Mrs. Eames to come with you. My warmest regards to Mrs. Campbell and your sisters, in which my sister [Mrs. Eugene H. Lynch] and Mr. Gouverneur unite.
Believe me, yours most truly,
M. D. Gouverneur.
Needwood, May 22nd, 1854.
I accepted the invitation and, while I was Mrs. Gouverneur's guest, my sister Margaret was visiting one of the adjoining places at the home of Colonel John Lee, whose wife's maiden name was Harriet Carroll. She was a granddaughter of Charles Carroll of Carrollton, and their home was the former residence of another ancestor, Governor Thomas Sim Lee of Maryland. During my visit at Needwood I renewed the acquaintance of my future husband, which I had formed a number of years before at the wedding of Miss Fanny Monroe and Douglas Robinson, of which I have previously spoken. It is unnecessary to refer to his appearance, which I have already described, but I am sure it is not unnatural for me to add that a year after the conclusion of the Mexican War he was brevetted for gallantry and meritorious conduct in the battles of Contreras and Churubusco. While his general bearing spoke well for his military training, his mind was a storehouse of information which I learned to appreciate more and more as the years rolled by. But of all his fine characteristics I valued and revered him most for his fine sense of honor and sterling integrity. Like his mother, Mr. Gouverneur was literary in his tastes and occasionally gave vent to his feelings in verse. In 1852 Oak Hill, the stately old Monroe place in Virginia where he had spent much of his early life, was about to pass out of the family. He was naturally much distressed over the sale of the home so intimately associated with his childhood's memory, and a few days prior to his final departure wrote the following lines. In after years nothing could ever induce him to visit Oak Hill.