Slue —■ WE do uot count a man's years un til he has nothing else to count. A (Story or Washington in 1735. One pleasant morning in August, 1775, General Washington set out from his headquarters at Cambridge on horseback merely for recreation. As was frequently the case, he rode unattended, and wore the dress of a civilian. He had proceeded a couple of miles in the direction of Water town, when he saw a woman, far ad vanced in years, sitting in a doorway and moaning piteously. His sympa thy was at once aroused and bringing his horse to a halt he inquired : "What troubles you, my good wo man ?" "Oh, sir," was the reply, "some rebel soldiers have been here this morning, and stolen or destroyed every thing in mygarden. I had cultivated the gardeu with my own hands, and looked to what 1 should gather from it for the support of' my invalid hus band and myself during the coming winter." "May I see your husband ?" "Certainly. He is always glad to have anyone to call upon him." Washington dismounted, tied his horse to the fence, and then followed the woman into the house, where, on his way he found evidences of extreme poverty, lie was, however, cordially welcomed by the feeble old man, who, bolstered up in bed, extended to him a thin, colorless hand. For half an hour or more, the Commander-in- Chief of the American Army held converse with the aged couple, during which he learned that they were most pronounced Tories, and had two sons —their only children —among Cage's troops in Boston. Before taking his departure, he drew some money from his pocket and held it toward the wo man saying, "This will enable you to provide for your present needs." She at first manifested a reluctance to re ceiving it, but finally accepted it, with profuse thanks. Then he promised that General Washington should be informed of the treatment to which his soldiers had subjected her. "General Washington," she ex claimed. "He is our bitterest enemy, and will, doubtless, rejoice to know that any who sympathize with the British have been abused." "1 think you are mistaken in regard to his disposition ; I hope you are at least," was the answer with a smile, as he left the house. He immediately rode to Major Gen eral Putnam, who commanded the centre division of the army stationed at Cambridge—and having acquainted him with what he had just learned, ordered a search for the marauders to be instituted, and that, when identified, they be sent to his headquarters. The third day thereafter an aid-de-camp conducted three soldiers into his pres ence. "Arc you the ones who disgraced the uniform you wiar by plundering a defenceless woman's garden ?" asked Washington sternly. ".She is a Tory," was the indirect re ply. "So she told me, and also that her sonsare in the British army. But she was a woman, nevertheless, and for that reason, if no other, entitled to re spect. Your wanton conduct was worthy of oppressors rather than of those who—as does the American army —aim to prevent oppression. Accompany them to the woman whom they molested," addressing the officer having them in charge, "and see that they fully compensate her for the damage they wrought. Another of fence of a like nature will not be dealt with so leniently." Later the same day, while he was engaged in writing, a servant informed him that a woman waited in an ad joining room, who was urgent to see him privately. "Ask her to step in here," said Washington, laying aside his quill. When the woman presented herself before him he saw she was the one in whose behalf he had acted a few hours previously. She went to him and placed her trembling hand upon his arm, saying, "God bless you 1" Then the tears came and she could articu late no more. "Please be seated, madam," and Washington placed a chair for her. She seated herself, and as soon as she could command her voice con tinued ; "Only a little time ago the soldiers who robbed my garden came and gave me a sum of money, more than suffi cient to make good my loss. From them I learned that my visitor of the other morning was General Washing ton himself —of whom I had held so erroneous an impression—and that it was at his —your —command they recompensed me. When they had gone, my husband and I talking the matter over, came to the conclusion that such a commander—so unlike General Gage, who never enlls his men to account for any violence or injury they may have done to the rebels —would not be likely to have charge of an unjust cause ; and though we had been firm adherents to the King, wo then resolved to espouse your cause in tho future. I think our sons, when they learn what has occur red to us, will do the same. I came hero to tell you this. God bless you !'* and touching her lips to his hand, she went from the apartmeut. Within the mouth two soldiers — this woman's sons —deserted the Brit ish standard and enrolled themselves with those who fought beneath the flag which was emblematic of freedom, justice, equality. One of them was killed, the other was severely wounded in the assault at Quebec, under Ar nold. This story was often told in Boston and Cambridge during the revolution and after its close, but we do not know that it has been given in history. Stories of popular Kings acting the part of unknown benefactors have often been told, as for example, King Henry and tlm miller, King James and tin: tinker, hut we have not be fore met with a like incident of Wash ington. — F. J'. Foster. .tlr. Lincoln's Insanity. A It'nmunce in /lis Early Life and Its Mel ancholy Episode. From the Cleveland Leader. In 1832 at the age of twenty-three Abraham Lincoln was the owner of a farm seven miles north of New Salem, and the half-owner of tlife largest store in the place. At this time he met with Miss Ann Kutledge. Two well-to-do gentleman of the place—Hill and .Mc- Neil—were courting her with devoted assiduity ; she decided in favor of the ; latter. He parted with her early in j 1832 to visit his father in New York, I promising to return at a given day and ! make her his own. She watched him ride away on Old Charley, an anti quated animal that had seen bard I usuage in the Black Hawk war, and that had jogged slowly along the bad roads to New York. Then there came a letter telling of siekuess in his -fami ly, which forbade his return at the ap pointed time. This was followed by j other postponements, until years rolled j by. The unaccountable delay, the in frequency of his letters, and his failure to give a reasonable explanation of his postponements finally lessened her at tachment and made; frightful inroads upon her health. She only wanted to see him in order to ask a release from her engagement, and to let him know that she preferred another and a more urgent suitor, whose name was Abra ham Lincoln. During three years young Lincoln visited Miss Kutledge I two or three times a wet k, first as | a friend in quest of congenial compa j ny, and finally as a suitor for her hand, j She was a great favorite in the village, | loved by all who knew her. h-he was probably the most refined woman to whom Mr. Lincoln at that time had ever spoken. He was always welcom ed by her father and mother. Tho latter he always called ""Aunt Polly" in his familiar way. Both father and mother entertained for him a deep af lection, and though theyfeever openly expressed themselves in regard to Ann's choice of a husband, yet they j would, without doubt, have rejoiced to : receive the manlv Abe Lincoln into their family, lie lighted up their home with a cheerful glow whenever he entered, and gave a pleasant flow of mirth and joy to their conversation. Ann's relatives were all united in en couraging the suit, which the young man pressed with great earnestness, but she firmly insisted that her honor demanded her to wait until she could be released from her first engagement before she nmde a second. In 1835 she and Lincoln were formally and solemnly betrothed, but she asked to I w ait another year, hoping that McNeil ; would return and that she might re lease herself from her pledge to him. Weeks and months passed and he re turned not. While she was waiting Lincoln was studying night and day to make himself more worthy of Ann and while he was growing in mind and body and daily developing the great intellect that was to fit him to lead a mighty nation through the fierce strug gles of war, Ann was hourly fading away. In August, 1835, she died, as her physicians said, of brain fever, but, as her neighbors belieyed, of the long series of disappointments and the pangs inflicted upon her heart and mind in striving to do right in regard to two lovers, to whom she had pledg ed her hand. Ann was buried in the little cemetery at New Salem, and as the future President stobd over her green grave with streaming eyes, he said: "My heart lies buried here." After the burial Lincoln began to ex hibit that deep vein of gloom and sad ness so often noticeable in his conduct while President. He lost all self-con trol, and every friend he had in N ew >Salem pronounced him insane. He was constantly watched, and with spe cial vigilance, says one of his neigh bors, "during storms, fogs and damp, gloomy weather, for fear of an acci dent," At such times he would rave piteously, saying, among other wild ex pressions, " I can never be reconciled to have the snow, rains and storms heat upon her grave." His friends finally succeeded in secluding him in a log hut u little way from town, were he was watched over with anxious solici tude for a few months, until he appear ed to be restored to his reason, but the traces of the sadness always lingered in his character. He visited the ceme tery daily oud spent hours over her grave. At this time he was heard fre quently to repeat a few lines of that poem he often recited in after years, entitled : " Why should the spirit of mortal be proud?" Some nights as he left the grave of Ann Hulledge he was-heard to murmur portions of it. On the evening of March 22,1804, as he sat in the White House, he drop ped his pen, turned from his letters, and with half-closed eyes repeated it entire to a friend. TRUST men and they will be true t® you; treat them greatly and they will show themselves great. Shams. No, Ido not like shams! I never did fancy shams! I do not care whether they are pillow shams, or sham sheets, or sham shirts, or shame of etiquette, or any other kind of sham! I like good, honest truth in everything. If you cannot afford fine cloth enough to cover both sides of your pillow, why just get what is a little coarser' and have both sides alike. It does not look right to see a fine, flounced, starched sham spread over a dirty, coarse pillow case. It looks like a great many folks that I have met in this world—very uice, smooth spoken, agreeable people out in company, but at home! bless me! you would be astonished to see how rough and cross they are! They are human shams. Then I have met ladies dressed in silks, and ruffled and fringed, that un derneath wore soiled linen, and, like as not, their shirts were trimmed with fagging, or there were holes in their stockings that were encased in French kid boots. This is another kind of human sham! Then there are other kinds of sham ; for instance, two people meet; they are delighted to see each other; you would think they were the best friends in the whole world, when, in truth, they do not care a copper for each other, and perhaps make ill-natured remarks concerning each other just as soon as their backs are turned. That is all put on for sham. There is no real kindness in it. People that ac tually dislike one another will shake hands when they meet, which is all of no account, and is only done for effect. There are lots of cases where sham is used when reality would he better. I think in our intercourse in society that truth is preferable to pretense. I do not believe in putting on appear ances. If you like a person, of course, show that you do. If you dislike an individual there is no need of pretend ing you are loving and kind. One can be civil, and not hurt any one's feelings ; but there is no need of mak ing believe what is not true or real. The world would be happier ami bet ter if there was more sincerity and less shamming. I want to have real things around me, for I am a sober reality myself, and I do not choose to make believe I am any better than I really am. Animal Sagacity. "1 have made some of my most in l(Tfctjng studies of nature in the morning/' said (Seth Green. "That is the time to seethe insects at their best —to see the mud wasps stinging the spiders without killing them, and packing them away where they are i kept alive for weeks to be used when needed. I have seen a small greeu ; worm hanging down ou a web. An j ant, stationed ou the limb above, pulls | up the web, and just as the worm ! comes in reach of his tiny claws,down | drops Mr. Worm. The ant pulls up I again and again, and worm lets out another reef and goes down. This | sort of thing continues until finally j the ant grapples the worm and both ! go down together in a grand scramble, j in which the worm manages to shake olf the ant. This leaves the worm on tho ground. His web is so stroug that it is still fastened to the limb above. What does Mr. Ant do? Give it up? No, sir. I have seen him go | up the trnuk of that tree, crawl out ; onto the same limb, and go to work again pulling up the same web. Then j a I ter another battle, I have known the ant to get the better of the light and lug the worm off to his hole, three j rods away. "Why, talk about reasoning powers! : The perseverance and instinct of these little creatures is wonderful. People go out to fish. They splash around, stand up in their boat,drop their lines three feet away, and wonder because they don't catch trout. They forget that trout can see. Fish learn that tackle and fish are, as a rule, local in their habitation. There are not as many gypsies among fish as among men. Any man who will take the pains to study fish—or who will re member a tithe of what he reads about them —cau catch them. They are smart, but our brains will beat them. I remember once of fishing for salmon trout for a long time and taking noth ing. Finally I concluded to get down and look into the water, and so, throw ing my coat over my head, I got the required shade and peered dowu. The salmon would sail up and look at the minnow. Then, with a quick dart, he would close his teeth rouud oue-half the minnow and open them again like a flash. He did not attempt to eat the minnow, and half of the severed body would drop to the bottom. When it had falleu to the bed of the lake the salmon would go down leisurely and eat it. The next timo when I drop ped my hook and felt tho quick bite of the trout I let out enough line to send the hook to the bottom, and the rosult was that when the salmon went down for his meal he was fooled and I had him." Introilnced to Ills (Sou. Plii!a. Record. A strange thing happened at Fre derick Station, in Montgomery county, Pa., a few days ago. Aaron Bout, a well-to-do trucker of the neighbor hood, a halo old man of fifty, was in troduced to bis father, Aaron Bout, a rich merchant of seventy, who lives on Heas street, in this city. Although they had been residing two hours' ride of each other for a quarter : of a century this wan the first time they had seen each other, and thereby hangs a tale. Fifty years ago the father was well kuowu as a horse jockey in Montgomery county and lived near Frederick. lie was a crack rider across country and the most popular horseman to be found in the radius of fifty miles. At all the county fairs young Bout was authority on all matters pertaining to horse flesh, and none daritd dispute his opin ion. He was a perfect dare-devil in the saddle, and no one could manage a four-in-hand as gracefully as he. At twenty he went off with a, circus, and in a few months his first son was born. He did not return to Frederick until the day, fifty years after, when father and son first met face to face. The mother had died and the father sup posed that the son hail also died. I Jut while the one was roaming the earth, leading an adventurous life, the boy grew to manhood and to middle age. After many years of wandering, and when lie had been lost to family and friends in Montgomery, Bout, the elder, married and settled in this city, and became a domestic man of busi ness, accumulated property and be came the head ola numerous family. His last child is now but two years old, and was born when the father had reached the ripe old age of sixty-eight. There are twenty-four other children, not including the supposed-to-he-dead' first born, all of them alive. In the meantime, Aaron Bout, jr., had lived an uneventful life, had married, bought a little farm and also reared a family of children. One day Mr. George Bilger, of this city, who was a relative of 1 Bout, died and was taken to Frederick to be buried. Among ; the mourners was the father, and in I the company at the church was the I -on. Neither was aware of the other's name or identity. An old patriarch of the neighborhood met Mr. Bout, sr. He had known him when both were boys, and was amazed to find him alive. Falling back in the fuucral procession he took the son aside. "Come," said he. "I will introduce you to your father." "My father," cried out the astonish ed man. "Impossible! I have no father. He is dead." "No, no," replied his friend, "he is here. Come with me." In a few moments the father of seventy and the son of fifty years,each somewhat bewildered, were in a long and warm embrace. For hours the two sat close together under the friend ly shade of a neighbor's vine-clad porch, all unconscious of the curious gaze of the country folks who had at tended the funeral. The son, who has been in Philadel phia lint once, was pressed to pay a visit to his father's house on Hens street, above Twelfth, and when the I crops have been harvested on the Fre derick hills there will be another meeting in this city. Brave Deeds in the Face of Deulli. The despatches from Alexandria enlarge upon the wonderful devotion and extraordinary bravery of the gun ners on board one of the British ves- I sols, who picked up a shell with a ! burning fuse and inuno-ml it in a bucket of water. This was a courage ous act, hut it was not "more gallant than anything of the sort ever before chronicled." During our own war for the Union hundreds of cases as deserv ing of mention occurred. At Stone river when Craft's Brigade of Palmer's Division was pursuing the rounted rebels on the 2d of January, they came suddenly on a reserve bat tery that opened on them with surpris ing fury. The men were ordered to lie down, and dropped in the soft mud of a cornfield. The rebel artillerymen had the rauge, however, and poured shot and shell into the advance line in away that tore some unfortuuates io pieces and covered nearly everyone with mud. Iu the midst of the terffic fusilade a shell struck between two men lying fiat on the ground so near to their heads as to stun both. Dozens of men, the bravest there, closed their eyes in anticipation of the terrible scene that would follow the explosion. But one of the soldiers at whose shoulder the smokiug shell had struck, digging up a handful of mud, held it aloft a moment while he said coolly ; " Ten to one, boys, she don't bust," and then with a sort of gleeful agility he brought his great wad or mud down on the shell smoking in the shallow hole, and " she didn't bust." No one thought George Hunt, of Company C, First Kentucky lufantry, a hero for doing that, hut possibly he ranked as high as the courageous gunner on the Alexandria. Auother case: When Sherman was getting ready for his move on Atlanta great quantities of ammunition were stored iu the railroad sheds at liesaca. One day in the midst of a thunder storm that dismantled the camp, the ammunition building was struck by lightning. Hundreds of the bravest soldiers ran blindly away as they saw the boxes of shell thrown about, saw the guards drop as if shot, and saw smoke issuing from the top of the great pile of explosives. But one man, clear-eyed and cool-headed, saw that the smoke came from tow in which the shells were packed, and climbing to the top," A" right, boys; no fireworks this time," H>> intrepidity and alert ness saved the ammunition and poesi bly many lives, and his record should be kept as green as that of the gallant gunner of the Alexandria.— Chicago Inter-Ocean.