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For the Reporter.
SMOKE.
BV PAUL PEMBEBTON, JR.
Poets have sung of fruits and flowers
Ami loving hearts that broke,
Of sea and sky and grate-fires bright,
But I the muse invoke,
For that which comforts man withal,
A good refreshing smoke.
Whiff, whiff, whiff,
See the light triumphant rings,
Whiff, whiff, whiff,
What a mind composed it brings !
Polish I a dinner well
When there is beef upon the board,
Beans, potatoes, Worcester sauce,
And "Old Vintage " freely poured ;
But contentment over all
Brings the smoking afterward—
Whiff, whiff', whiff'.
All the greasy taste it takes,
Whiff, whiff, whiff',
From the onions and the steaks !
Out upon the portico
When the daily work is done,
With a half a dozen friends,
Listening to the tale of one,
And our feet upon the rails, •
Smoking down the summer sun-
Whiff, whiff, whiff,
What a zest to life it gives,
Whiff", whiff, whifl',
I'm the happiest man that lives!
With a goose-quill in my hand
When the heat is ninety-eight,
Pausing vainly for ideas,
Almost sleeping while I wait;
Light I then a brown cheroot—
How my thoughts all concentrate ;
Whiff, whift', whifl',
'• Lynchburg " is the scribe's best friend,
Whiff, whiff, whifl',
Smoking I've a poem penned!
THE RED HAT.
On the evening of a dark aud rainy day
in the month of December, 10—, a solitary
horseman, wrapped in a large cloak, might
have been seen spurring his jaded steed
along the high-road leading from Ruel to
ward the gloomy and antiquated chateau
then the residence of the formidable prime
minister of Louis the Thirteenth, Armand
tlu l'lessis, Cardinal and Duke of Richelieu.
Remember, there was but one cavalier.
Add another, and you might think I was
borrowing from the lamented G. P. R.
James.
This horseman drew bridle and dismoun
ted at the door of an humble little village
inn, bearing on its sign-board the effigy of
St Nicholas, and which stood at the en
trance of a gloomy avenue of poplars, at
the opposite extremity of which was the
chateau, and to which it served as a kind
of lodge.
The horseman wore a felt-hat without
plume, band, or buckle ; and his doublet of
brown drugget, destitute of either ribbons,
lace, or embroidery, was sufficient to indi
cate, in an age when costume so closely de
noted the gradations of rank, that lie did
r.ot belong to the patrician class ; still,
from his open and almost defiant counte
nance and cavalierly turned up mustache,
it was not difficult to pronounce him one of
those sturdy and independent burgesses
whose fathers had fought in the wars of
the League, and who, temporarily kept in
subjection by the iron hand of Richelieu,
reappeared during the troubles of the Fronde,
hut were destined to be completely absorb
ed by the glory of the Gi and Mouarque.
His horse appeared completely worn out,
and the muddy state of his cloak testified
to his having come a long distance by bad
roads, in an age when all roads were exe
crable.
" May the plague light on the rogues who
are hound to keep the king's highway in
repair!" grumbled the traveler, as, tether
ing his steed to a post, he entered the iun,
and proceeded to hammer with the butt
id of his whip upon a long table of coarse
deal, which stood in the midst of a low
ceiled smoky common-room.
A fat man, of rotund abdomen and pur
pied face, clad in the traditional white
apron aud night-cap, and with a knife stuck
io his girdle, for he was cook as well as
bust, entered the room.
hat might your lordship be pleased
to want?" lie asked, pulling off his cap,and
making- a lowly reverence.
" 1 am no lord, master of mine," replied
the traveler, twisting his moustache not
without complacency ; " but a plain bur
gess, who owes nothing, and asks for noth
-1!lg without he can pay for it. I ant hun
gered and athirst. (Jive me some supper ;
wake up a blazing fire ; see to my liorse ;
iwd 1 promise you that you shall have no
reason to complain of me."
As he spoke the traveller struck his
pocket, which gave forth a metalic chink
pleasant to hear.
Hie purple face of the inn-keeper became
cue gviu.
"We have not one room unoccupied," he
s -"d ; but my own private bedroom is at
iour service. My wife shall make up a
,( -d directly. And for the rest, you have
ut to wait a few minutes, and all your
w 'sheg shall be attended to."
-"me host was as good as his word. Ere
' ■ng the traveller was comfortably stretch
■ Vi" U arm-chair, toasting his feet at
J 4 Z '"K fire, te which a couple of logs had
'' n added. He could sec through the
asement that snow was beginning to fall
di'lr it' ' iC C V hear the wintry wind
,J 'C ully howling ; a soft warm odor from
15. O. GOODRICH, Fiiblislier.
VOLUME XXVI.
the kitchen began to titillate his nostrils,
and lie felt cozy and complacent as men in
countries and ages have felt under similar
circumstances.
" Come, this is better," lie murmured,
with a sigh ol relief. "A dog's life is that
of a traveler in December. May the black
! fever choke the Cardinal—"
11c bounded in his chair with terror ; he
was nearly falling into a swoon, as, look
ing upward, he saw the inn-keeper, night
cap in hand, standing before him.
"'Sdeath, man, what do you want?" he
exclaimed, with ill-disguised trepidation.
" I am desirous," returned the other,with
apparent embarrassment, "to ask a favor
of your excellency."
The imprudent burgess breathed a little
more freely after this, for he had expected
nothing less than to be at once arrested by
an exempt of his terrible eminence the Car
dinal.
" Ask what you will, my friend," he re
sponded in a courteous tone.
" Only imagine, your highness," pursued
the diplomatic inn-keeper, twisting one of
the corners ol his apron, " that no sooner
had my wife made your room comfortable
and tidy for you than another customer ar
rived. He is an old customer, and a very
good customer too, for he only asks how
much there is to pay, and allows me to tot
up the reckoning. Well, you see, your su
periority, that 1 can't exactly turn him out
of doors on such a night as this ; so I've
just come to ask your grace if you will al
low him to share your fire and your supper
till bedtime, when 1 must find him a shake
down somewhere."
"Is lie an honest man, ties customer of
yours ?" asked the traveler in a dignified
tone.
If it were possible for the deep-tinted face
of the inn keeper to assume an intenser hue
he may be said to have blushed.
" Yes, yes, your excellency," lie replied ;
"he is honest—a very honest man, as hon
est men go, and in his way of business."
" Tell him, then, that I shall be very
pleased with his company, and that he is
welcome to half my supper—the best half ;
and, hark ye, Mr. Landlord, see that it be
good, and that the wine is of the right
sort."
The inn-keeper was profuse in his expres
sions of gratitude and in promises of a
speedy appearance of excellent cheer ; and
then he left the room, somewhat precipi
tately,as the traveler thought,to inform his
customer of the result of his mission.
In a minute or so the customer made his
appearance. lie was a strange customer
—a curious customer—and, to tell truth,
somewhat of an ugly customer, lie was
very tall, very thin, had very harshly
marked features, very small gray eyes,
whose lids dropped whenever he was looked
full in the face, and a pointed beard and
mustache coarse and grizzled. His hands
were knotted and bony, and of huge size.
He was plainly dressed in a doublet, vest,
and trunks of gray serge, bordered with
black taffeta, and terminated by long boots
of untanned leather ; but the most notice
able point in his appeared was his hat,
which, of the same material as that of the
traveler, and, like his, unadorned by feath
er or buckle, was of a dull crimson color.
" I don't like the look of that Robin Red
head," the traveler bethought himself. "His
eminence wears a scarlet hat ; but it has
tassels and a broad brim. Who ever saw
a peaceable citizen in such a bloodstained
looking chuvrechef as that?"
However, he was an open-hearted bur
gess ; and, rising, held out his hand to the
stranger, saying, " Welcome, Sir and
friend."
To his surprise the man with the Red
Hat drew back, as though half alarmed and
half astonished at this simple act of cour
tesy, and, instead of reciprocating it, con
tented himself with making a low bow.
" A very ceremonious personage, upon
my word," mused the guest. "Perhaps he
is a Huguenot; or, just as likely, a Cath
olic, and thinks lam a heretic. The spot
ted fever take all religious differences, say
I!" Then, raising his voice, he said, "Sir,
1 am extremely happy to be able to offer
you a share of my supper and—"
"A thousand thanks !" hastily interposed
he of the Red Hat. Then diving into the
recesses of a pouch at his belt, he produced
a handful of silver and continued, " Take, I
entreat you, what I have to pay as my
share of the reckoning."
" Sir, sir," protested the traveler, draw
ing himself up, " do you take me for a nig
gard curmudgeon who expects a stranger
to pay for the meal to which he invites
him ?"
" Invites ! I>o you mean to say that you
invite me?" faltered the Red Hat.
"Of course 1 do. 1 told the landlord so,"
replied the other.
" Then," responded the Red llat, with a
very peculiar and not very pleasant smile,
" I accept your invitation as heartily as it
was given. This is the first time in my
life tliat such a thing has happened to me.
But the sky has fallen, and we may expect
to catch roast larks." And he drew a stool
up to the fire and bcg'an to bask and hug
himself in the genial warmth.
Roast larks failed to come down ; but a
splendid roast goose just then came up,
flanked by a hotchpotch of savory ingre
dients, and two portly pitchers of wine.
The strangely-acquainted friends sat down
to table and did the amplest justice to the
edibles and potables ; and so delighted did
mine host seem with the appetite of his
guests, that he insisted upon standing treat
in more than one flask of his choicest vint
age.
" No doubt, Sir," the Red Hat remarked,
when the landlord had removed the frag
ments of the repast and they were left
alone, " that you are as well known as I
am in this hostelry. Goodman Aubry
waited on you as though you were a prince."
" Not in the least," replied the burgess,
smiling. "But I just sounded my pocket,
and he was content with the ring of the lit
tle livres Tournois."
His interlocutor smiled grimly in his
turn. " Yes," he pursued, "gold has im
mense power in every country ; still it is
far from prudent to show the contents of
| one's pocket to every body, especially in
such a place as this."
The burgess looked at him uneasily.
"Do you mean that there are any pick
pockets hereabouts, brother ?" he asked.
" Do you mean to say that you are not
acquainted with the neighborhood?'' re
turned the other, answering one question
by asking another.
TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., AUGUST 10, 1865.
" Faith, not I. This is my first visit, and
I come from a long distance too. I am
from La Rochelle."
"From La Rochelle !" and tin; Red Hat
in his turn regarded his new-found friend
witli perturbed looks ; " what on earth
brings you from thence?"
" The force of circumstances, my unlucky
star, and his eminence the Cardinal. Tig
a very long story. I have been specially
sent for to wait upon his eminence."
" Unfortunate man !" exclaimed the Red
Hat; " what have you to do with him ?
Have you offended his eminence ?"
" Never, to my knowledge." responded
the burgess. "As fate.would have it,how
ever, I have been accused of doing so ; but
my complete justification can be neither
long nor difficult. You must know that the
Rochellois are very troublesome folks ; and
that evil-speaking, lying, and slandering
are far too common there.. Some scurvy
wag among our citizens lias written an an
onymous satire against our administration
in general, and Mouseigueur the* Cardinal
in particular. Then there has been a talk
about I'rbaiu Grandier, about tragedies
and verses written by bis eminence, about
a certain saraband said to have been danced
by him before the queen ; a pack of nun
sense ! Some secret enemy of mine has
been good enough to denounce me as the
author of these roguish pasquinades—l who
never rhymed two lines together in my life.
It is a most perverse and treacherous time I
To exculpate myself I referred to a certain
worthy monk, Father Joseph, who is said !
to be honored with the friendship and confi
dence of his eminence. He was fully con
vinced of my innocence ; and subsequently
informed me that Moiiseigneur would deign
to grant me an interview ; and here I am,
deeply flattered by his eminence's condes
cension, although I should very much pre
fer being snug at home in my own bouse at
La Rochelle."
" Humph !" quoth the Red Hat ; " for my
part I think you would have done much
better to have remained at home, and left
this fool's errand to take care of itself. Car
dinals are dangerous personages to have
interviews with. But 1 must be going," he
resumed, hastily rising. " Farewell, mas
ter of mine 1 Thanks for your hospitality,
and pray Heaven and St. Nicholas that we
may never meet again." And so saying
the Red Hat abruptly left the room.
" A fool's errand ! what can he mean by
that ?" mused the burgess. " Poor man, he
must be cracked. Who but a madman
would think of wearing a red hat ? How
ever, my little affair will be soon settled—
nine o'clock was the hour fixed at which I
was to wait upon his eminence. 'Tis not
live minutes' walk to the chateau, and then
I shall come comfortably home to bed."
Paying his reckoning at the polite re
quest of the host, who hinted that cavaliers
who went up to the chateau sometimes
found their arrangements for returning at
a fixed time interfered with—a hint which the
traveler wholly failed to comprehend—he
went out into the night, wrapping his cloak
around him to shelter himself from the still
falling snow.
11c had not proceeded many paces along
the sombre avenue of poplars before he
thought that he heard the clinking of sword
blades and some smothered groans. He
listened attentively ; but a sudden gust of
wind came howling about him and drowned
the sound of the swords.
"It must have been fancy," he reasoned.
"That confounded fellow with the red hat
has made me nervous. If I were a coward
1 should dream of him to-night."
" Help ! murder !" suddenly cried a la
mentable voice close to him.
"Courage, we are here !" cried the brave
burgess, drawing his sword and summon
ing up all his presence of mind. "Hold on,
we are four of us, well armed ! Ah, ras
cals, would you !" And he rushed forward
in the direction whence the cries had come.
His ruse had seemingly succeeded, for
in the obscurity he could dimly descry at
least three men making off in all haste, and
anon he stumbled over a body lying on
the ground. The moon came out for a mo
ment through the murk, and he recognized,
pale, bleeding, and groaning, the Red Hat.
He seemed to be severely wounded.—
The burgess helped him to rise, but finding
hint too weak to walk, valorously hoisted
him on his shoulders, and not without dif
ficulty, for the Red Hat weighed heavily,
bore him hack to the inn of St. Nicholas.
"This pestilent fellow with his red hat,"
he murmured, as, with the assistance of the
landlord, he bore him up stairs and laid
him in the bed which had been prepared
for quite another purpose, "seems fated to
be mixed up with my life. And 1 shall
have to sleep in the arm-chair, forsooth,
because he chooses to get waylaid and
stabbed."
"Where am 1?" faintly whispered the
wounded man, when his wounds had been
bound up, and he had recovered conscious
ness.
"Among friends, brother," replied the
honest burgess consolingly, as he bathed
the temples of the sufferer with vinegar.
"Friends !" repeated the Red Hat bitter
ly ; "I have no friends ! Who was at the
trouble of saving the life of such a miser
able wretch as I am ?"
" Well, for the matter of that, 'twas I
who picked you out of the mud, and set the
rascals to flight who were besetting you.
Three to one, the cowardly knaves ! How
they scamp"-red ! And then, you see, I
brought you here, pickaback ; for walk a
step you could not."
" And you—you then are my preserver!"
the Red Hat exclaimed in a voice of agony,
and pressing the burgess' hand.
" Yes, if you like to call it so. Wouldn't
you have clone the same for me ?"
The inn-keeper was down stairs The
wounded man made signs to the burgess to
close the door securely, and to come close
to the bedside. Then he put his lips to the
burgess' ear, and in a hoarse whisper said,
" Had you not an appointment at nine
o'clock this evening with the eminence?"
"Of course I had, and shall get a pretty
scolding for being late. But perhaps the
existence of a poor devil like me has slipped
his eminence's memory."
" Then," quoth the Red Hat solemnly, " I
can give life for life. You have saved
mine. I too was bound to wait upon his
eminence at nine this night; and I have
little doubt that it would have been my
dreadful duty to strike your head from your
body."
At this appalling intimation the Rochel
lois, with horror in his countenance, made
REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER.
for the door, thinking the Red Hat to be in
| a state of delirium ; but the other called
I liiin back.
" 'Tis not I, unfortunate, that thou must
| fly," he said "Escape rather from this
horrible neighborhood. Listen to what I
say. The merciless Cardinal had doubt
less condemned you without ahearing; and
it would have been my task to execute the
sentence ; for I—yes, I whose hand you
have pressed- 1 whose life you have saved
1 who ha\e eaten and drank with you
—I am the most miserable, the most
abandoned, the most accursed of mankind.
1 am the executioner of Chartres."
lie paused for a moment, keenly eyeing
his companion, who, brave and honest as
he was, could not banish from his counte
nance the expression of repugnance he felt
at being on familiar terms with the abhor
red headsman.
" You may well shun me," continued the
Red llat, gloomily. " But fate has decreed
that we must yet have some further com
munion before we part forever. Every
time that bis eminence lias a deed of secret
vt ngeauce to consummate 1 am summoned
to the chateau. At this inn I always
alight. The villagers know me and my
Bed Hat well, and shudderingly avoid me.
They call this inn the House of the Heads
man, and sometimes the Devil's Inn."
" 1 don't wonder at it," muttered the poor
Rochellois.
" But fear nothing," continued the Red
Hat; "although every thing concurs to
point out that you were the person I was
sent for to execute, it may be some other
victim that awaits my axe. Come, have
your horse led forth. I must convey you
to a place of safety."
" But you are wounded," urged the Ro
chellois.
" A mere scratch ! with a drought of
strong cordial I shall be strong and valid
again Strong enough," lie continued,with
his ugly smile, " for my work to-night, if
work there be. Come, dispatch !"
As, with many groans and murmurs, the
lately wounded man arose, and the two left
the chamber, they found the inn-keeper on
on the staircase lie sought to give them
the slip, and had evidently been listening
to their conversation.
The Red Hat was accustomed to act
promptly. He seized the inn-keeper by the
throat, pinned him up in the angle of the
stair, and whispered to him :
" Son of a dog, and nephew of a sow !
dare to speak one word concerning our
conversation, and I denounce thee to the
Cardinal for harboring traitors, and thy
neck is not worth an hour's purchase! Swear,
issue of a mangy swine !"
The inn-keeper, half-terrified out of his
wits, swore as he was commanded ; but
the Red Hat kept his eyes sharply upon
him till they were well clear of the Devil's
Inn. There was need to employ every
precaution; for the lower room was by
this time full of a company of arquebusiers,
the body-guard of his eminency The Red
Hat watched the commandant of the band
draw the host on one side and apparently
interrogate him ; but his answers seemed
perfectly satisfactory, and the two travel
ers were permitted to depart.
They started at a gallop, and were soon
immersed in the forest of Butard, leading
toward the Chateau of Ruel.
Suddenly the lied llat reined in his horse,
and pointing out to his preserver the
gloomy dwelling of the Cardinal, said :
"Mark well that turret in the centre,
high up yonder, with the pointed roof.
Mark well that little arched window with
grated bars before it. It can only be seen
from the place where we now are. In that
turret the dreadful decrees of Richelieu
—the sentences from which there is no
appeal—are executed. When my bloody
task is accomplished a trap door opens,
and the headless corpse falls a hundred
feet into a vault tilled with quick-lime.
Every trace of the tragedy thus disappears.
Remain here for one hour. Keep yourself
concealed behind the trunk of this withered
elm. If during that hour you see a l'ght
glimmering from that arched window, you
may assure yourself that I have been sum
moned not on your account, but on that of
some other unhappy victim In that case
you may present yourself without fear be
fore his eminence ; for it never happens
that 1 am sent for to ply my hellish trade
twice in the same night. lint if during the
hour the light does not appear, you are the
destined victim, you are the victim waited
for. Clap spurs to your horse, and make
the best of your way to the frontier, or you
will be captured ; and the Lord have mercy
on you !"
And so saying, and just interchanging
one hearty grip with his friend, the Red
llat rode away. The burgess of La Ro
chelle never saw him again.
lie waited an hour— a year it seemed to
him—behind the trunk of the withered elm;
hut no tight ajgtcared in the little arched win
dow. He, then, was the wretch condemned
to death ! With a cold sweat bedewing
him, and picturing to himself the arque
busiers of the terrible Cardinal scouring
the country in every direction to bind him
and lead him to the slaughter, he urged his
horse into a gallop, and sped, as though
the fiend who was said to be the patron of
the inn of St. Nicholas were behind him, iu
the direction of the northern frontier. He
could not (juite convince himself that his
head was safe upon his shoulders till he
found himself, two days afterward, at Huy,
Plunders.
Mas. PARTINGTON has addressed us the
following appeal : Perhaps you dont know
that Isaac has gone to the contented field ;
he was grafted last fall in one of the wings
of the army. I suppose the flying Artillery.
I wrote a letter to Mr. Stanton telling him
to put Isaac where he would'ntgct shot, as
he wasn't used to it. I know what intlu
ence you must have with the President, and
write this to you to get Isaac on a furlough
so he can get his mended pair of panta
loons, for he writes me two of their "par
rots'' burst their breeches, and I think what
an awful thing it would be if Isaac was a
parrot. When Isaac used to sing "I want
to be an angel" I didn't think he would so
soon be with the swamp angel, down in
Charleston. He says the war will soon be
over, and he will come back a victoria.
I'm sure I wish it was over now or hadn't
commenced yet.
RomNson, the soldier who saved Secreta
ry Seward's life, has been presented with
a farm by Hon. O. B. Mattison.
THE OLD CANOE.
We take great pleasure in reproducing this ex
quisite poem, cut many years ago from an obscure
Arkansas paper, and published in the North.—
Every now and then it re-appears on the surface of
newspaper literature. It desires a more prominent
place in our letters :
Where the rocks are gray and the shore is steep,
' And the waters below look dark and deep,
Where the rugged pine, in its lonely pride,
Leans gloomily over the murky tide ;
Where the reeds and rushes are long and rank,
And the weeds grow thick on the winding bank ;
Where the shadow is heavy the whole day through,
Lies at its moorings the old canoe.
The uselesss paddles are idly dropped,
Like a sea bird's wings that the storm has lopped,
And crossed on the railing, one o'er one,
Like the folded hands when the work is done ;
While busily back and forth between,
The spider stretches his silvery screen,
And the solemn owl, with his dull "too-hoo,"
Settles down on the side of the old canoe.
The stern half sunk in the slimy wave,
Rots slowly away in its living grave,
And the green moss creeps o'er its dull decay,
Hiding its mouldering dust away,
Like the hand that plants o'er the tonib a flower,
Or the ivy that mantles the falling tower ;
While many a blossom of the loveliest hue,
Springs up o'er the stern of the old canoe.
The currentless waves are dead and still—
But the light wind plays with the boat at will,
And lazily in and out again
It floats the length of its rusty chain,
Like the wenry march of the hands of time,
That meet and part at the noontide chime.
And the shore is kissed at each turning anew.
By the dripping bow of the old canoe.
O, many a time, with a careless hand,
I have pushed it away from the pebbly strand ;
And paddled it down where the stream runs quick,
Where the whirls are wild and the eddies are thick,
And laughed as I leaned o'er the rocking side,
And looked below in the broken tide,
To see that the faces and boats were two,
That were mirrored back from the old canoe.
And now, as I lean o'er the crumbling side,
And look below in the sluggish tide,
The face that I see there is graver grown,
And the laugh that I hear has a soberer tone,
And the hands that lent to the light skill' wings,
Have grown familial- with sterner things.
But I love to think of the hours that flew
As I rocked where the whirls their white spray threw,
Ere the blossoms waved, or the green grass grew,
O'er the mouldering stem of the old canoe.
MOUNT VERNON,
ITS HISTORY, ITS I'ROI'RJETORS, ITS REI.ICS, ITS
REMINISCENCES, AND ITS PRESENT CONDITION.
There has probably never been so great
a throng of visitors to the national shrine
in the history of the country as at the pres
ent time. The fine steamer running regu
larly thither from this city is largely pat
ronized, while multitudes are daily going
there by land conveyances. The throng of
soldiers thither is especially very numerous.
The distance from Washington is some fif
teen miles, about nine below Alexandria.
At the death of General Washington, in
1799, the Mount Vernon estate comprised
several thousand acres of land in a solid
body, extending many miles on the Poto
mac river. A large part of it was under
tillage. It was divided into five farms,
each cultivated by its own negroes, with an
overseer, and the whole under a general
superintendent, and all under the careful
inspection of the great chief himself. His
own negroes numbered one hundred and
twenty ; his wife's were as many more.
\\ heat, corn, and tobacco, were the chief
products of the estate, tobacco being, how
ever, much less cultivated in the latter
years of his life than in earlier times. Up
on the estate there was a fine two-story
stone corn and flour mill, the remanis of
which are still visible on Dogue Creek, up
which tlatboats came alongside the mill.
The water to carry the mill was brought
in a race some mile and a half from a "tum
bling dam" up Dogue Run. The old mill
house is still in good condition, and is oc
cupied by a colored family. Near this mill
was also his distillery. There were also a
brick-yard, a carpenter establishment,black
smith shop—the estate forming, in fact, a
sort of village.
Originally the Mount Vernon estate con
sisted of one-half of five thousand acres as
signed to \Y ashington's great-grandfather,
who, in conjunction with Nicolas Spencer,
patented it from Lord Culpepper in 1(170.
In the division of his estate, the father of
Washington assigned this tract to his el
der brother Lawrence, who came here and
erected the mansion in 1745, naming it in
honor of Admiral Vernon, under whom he
had served as captain in a colonial regi
ment, in the West Indies, in 1740. Law
rence died in 1752, leaving a wife, the
daughter of Sit William Fairfax, of Bel
voir, and one child—a daughter ; and, on
the demise of this daughter without issue,
as soon happened, the estate fell to George,
who had been much an inmate of his fam
ily.
In his will Washington divided his es
tate into three parts The mansion with
four thousand acres, was left to his neph
ew, Bushrod Washington, an associate jus
tice of the United States Supreme Court.
At the death of Mrs. Washington, in 1801,
Judge Washington became proprietor of
Mount Vernon, and continued there till his
death, in 1829. Two of the old servants
still on the estate came there with him, be
longing to his wife Anne, daughter of Col.
Thomas Blackburn. Two of General Wash
ington's servants still survive, also residing
some three miles from Mount Vernon.—
Judge Washington, having no children,left
the estate to his nephew, John A. Wash
ington, from whom the Ladies' Mount Ver
non Association purchased the two hun
dred acres upon which are the mansion and
the tomb, for $200,000. Two thousand
acres were willed by Washington to two
other members of the Washington family,
and the residue, upwards of two thoasand
acres, including the fine Woodland estate,
was given to Major Lawrence Lewis, a fa
vorite nephew, whose wife was the beauti
ful and cultivated Nelly Curtis, grandchild
of Mrs. Washington, and the adopted daugh
ter of General Washington.
Major Lewis erected a splendid mansion
at Woodlawn, in 1805, at the cost of $24,-
000. Major Lewis, whose mother, Betty
Washington, was the sister of the great
chief, died at Arlington in 1841, and his
#3 per Annum, in Advance.
wife died in 1852. The remains of both,
with those of a daughter, the wife of Charles
M. Conrad, Fillmore's War Secretary,being
deposited in the Mount Vernon vaults.
Soon after the death of Major Lewis, the
Woodlawn estate was sold by his only son,
Lorenzo, to a colony of Quakers from New
Jersey, who still retain much of it, divided
into farms. The Woodlawn mansion, with
a splendid farm of five hundred acres sur
rounding it, belongs to John Mason, Esq.,
who came there from New Hampshire in
1850. The mansion is of brick, with slate
roof, and lofty pillars, fronting the river on
a commanding site looking down upon the
wh'rte Mount Vernon estate. Lorenzo
Lewis died some years ago in Clark county,
and the other daughter, the wife of a Mr.
Butler, is living in Mississippi.
John A. Washington went to Fauquier
county with his family in 1860, and pur
chased a farm known as Ware-land. His
wife died suddenly soon after, and it is well
known that he fell, as colonel of a rebel
regiment, early in 1861, leaving a family uf
seven children, the youngest two being lit
tle boys, and the only male children ever
born at the Mount Vernon mansion. There
are some one thousand acres of the Mount
Vernon estate, belonging to these orphan
children, lying in close proximity to the !
Mount Vernon mansion The Mount Ver-1
non estate was probably never under a i
finer state of cultivation than it is at the j
present time. The farmers have been ship
ping manure in large quantities from this
city this season, and piling it at their land
ings on the river for further use. At the i
present time there are two thousand Gov- j
ernmout mules grazing upon different farms t
in that section. These mules are separated j
into squads of five hundred, and with fif '
teen mounted men to control them, are put j
into a heavy grass field, kept closely to
gether, and compelled to eat clean as they
go. A squad thus eats some more than
two acres of the heaviest grass in a day,for
which they pay five cents a head, or twen
ty-five dollars a day for the squad. The
ground behind them looks as though no i
grass had grown there this seasou.
The grounds immediately around the j
mansion and tomb bear evidence of care I
and taste. The approach to the tomb and !
to the mansion from the river is highly pic-'
turesque and delightful. The appearance I
of both the tomb and the mansion has been |
familiar to all Americans in illustrated i
books from the childhood of most of those !
who now read the daily press. We have j
seen this sacred spot many times in the last!
thirty years, and uever saw it looking bet- *
ter than now.
It may be interesting to many who are
now visiting the place for the first time to
know that the remains of Washington were
originally deposited in the old vault, which
is pointed out to all visators, anil in a ma
hogany coffin lined with lead. The vault
was damp, and the wood was three times
renewed before being placed into the recep
tacle where they now repose. In 1831 the
new vault was erected, and the remains
transferred. A Philadelphia marble-worker
proposed to furnish a marble sarcophagus,
but on visiting the tomb declined to do so
if it was to be put into so damp a vault.
An ante-chamber was, therefore, erected in
front of the vault, some dozen feet high,
with an arched gateway, and a gate formed
of iron rods. In this ance-chamber, on the
right, is the sarcophagus containing there
mains of Washington, and on the left an
other precisely like it containing the re
mains of Mrs. Washington ; and it may be
added that her remains have been moved
as often as those of the great chief. The
sarcophagus is excavated from a solid
block of pure white marble and was placed
there in 1537. Within the vault proper
are the bodies of many members of the fam
ily. On either side, as you come near to
the vaults, stands a marble obelisk, in
scribed with names of leading members of
the A\ ashington family. The design upon
\\ ashington's sarcophagus covers the most
of the top of the lid, and consists of a shield,
divided into thirteen perpendicular stripes,
resting on the national flag, and attached
by cords to a spear embellished with tas
sels, forming a background to the shield.
The crest is an eagle with open wings
perching upon the superior bar of the shield,
and clutching the arrows and olive branch.
Below the armorial bearing is the name,
deeply sculptured, of " Washington." On
the plain lid of the other sarcophagus are
the words, in plain large letters, " Martha
Washington."
An addition, erected at one end of the
mansion after Washington's time, has been
torn away, and the structure is now in the
exact form as when left by the Father of
his Country. It is well known that the j
mansion, as originally erected and left by
Lawrence Washington, was much enlarged '
by General \\ ashington, a section being |
added to each end, making it, as it now |
stands, ninety-six feet in length, north and
south, with a portico, fronting the river,
extending from end to end. This portico
having decayed, lias been replaced by an
exact copy of the old. The mansion is two
stories high, of wood, finished in imitation
of freestone, aud painted white. Four
teen small windows, with old fashioned di
minutive panes of glass, look out upon
beautifully sloping lawns, and down upon
the river from an elevation of two hundred
feet above the river level. There are six
rooms on the iioor, with a spacious hall run
ning through the centre from east to west.
The north room is the large dining-hall, in
which is the exquisite marble mantelpiece,
wrought in Italy, shipped 011 an English
vessel during the French revolution, cap
tured by the French, and promptly forwar-'
ded by the French Government when La
fayette made known that it was a present
from an American wine merchant, residing
in Marseilles, to Washington. In this room
are also the double-banked harpsichord,
shaped like a modern square piano—a
wedding present to his adopted daughter,
Nelly Curtis; the tripod which served
Washington in all his surveys, and the
large set of matched mahogany dining-ta
bles. The dining-hall opens at either end
into an east and west parlor, in one of
which is an old, dilapidated, large globe,
and in the other an old sofa. The key of
the Bastile—a present from Lafayette —
still hangs in the glass ease in the hall,and
by its side, tbe silhouette taken from life by
a lady in Philadelphia. The library-room,
in the south cud, is occupied by Miss Tra
cy, the accomplished and faithful agent of
of the Mount Ternon Association. A bust
I of Washington, east in plaster by Houdon,
aud another of Lafayette, facing each offer
high on the walls, are the only observable
relics The bookcases, built into the wall,
with glass doors, fully occupy one side of
the large room. Over this apartment, in a
small bed-room, the great and good man
died. A bedstead, said to be an exact
copy of that on which he died, is the only
article in the chamber. The family pic
tures were nearly or quite all at Arlington,
and were taken to Richmond by Oen. Lee.
The celebrated pitcher portrait, upon the
back of which was inscribed the beautiful
eulogy, and left in the mansion by au un
known band, was carried away by John A.
Washington, and is in the possession of
that family.
The long row of brick quarters still stand
as they have for thirty or forty years, since
they were partially destroyed by fire. In
this row, Washington had his blacksmith
and carpentering establishments, and lu re
now live the two old colored servants, of
whom mention lias been made as the ser
vants that came here sixty years ago, with
Anne Blackburne, the wife of Bushrod
Washington.
NUMBER 11.
The " Ladies' Mount Vernon Associa
tion" it is well known, made their purchase
in 1858, and had made the last payment of
, two thousand dollars on the eve of the re-
I hellion. The association had expended al
|so twenty thousand dollars in improve
j rnents, in addition to paying" the two hun
j dred thousand dollars purchase money.
Much still needs to be done, and the large
amount of funds at this time accumulating
from the throngs of visitors, who pay an
entrance fee each of twenty-five cents, will
do tnuch for putting the national shrine
and preserving it in proper condition. The
scourge of the rebellion stayed its desolat
ing tide at the confines of these sacred
acres. The tomb of Washington was held
sacred on both sides. Pohick Church,
where Washington worshipped till the close
of the Revolution, has not escaped so well.
The last discourse in it was a tempestuous
disunion harangue by an itinerant Metho
dist preacher on a Sabbath near the open
ing of the war. The ancient edifice is now
a shell ; not a window, dour, nor the small
est fragment of the pews, pulpit, nor floor,
are to be seen. It was used early in the
war by soldiers for shelter, and later was
turned into a stable. The ancient tomb
stones of the abandoned graveyard are ly
ing and leaning around, and desolation is
painted in all its saddest forms upon the
scene. The old Pohick Church was erec
ted near this some one hundred and fifty
years ago. This was erected in ITT2, and
Washington was the chief contributor in
its erection. To this church Washington
for years regularly repaired, some seven
miles, allowing no company to keep him
from the Sabbath service. The pew-doors
of Washington and the great George Ma
son had been carried away as relics before
the war. The brick walls alone now re
main.— Washington Intelligencer.
"BEASTLY" INTOXICATION.— The most re
markable case of intoxication we ever
heard of is related by the Troy Ti>e s.
About a month ago an illicit whisky dis
tillery was in full blast on Green Island,
near Troy. One night—it was a "still"
night—tire man running the machine had
made eighteen gallons of whiskey, and put
it out in the open air to cool. Along came
a cow. She was thirsty, and the beverage
looked inviting, She swallowed every drop
—eighteen gallons of unreetiiied whiskey,
warranted to kill at forty rods. The cow
lias been drunk ever since. She staggered
home and is now in the fourth week of a
grand old bender. The cow eats nothing ;
falls down whenever they try to raiser her
up, and has become as lean as a crow in
stead of a cow. This cow, besides, had a
young calf, whose strange behavior first
led to the discovery of the state of the
mother cow. It reeled round and round,
and lifting three legs and a tail in the air,
actually *pun on the fourth leg". The owner
ol the cow was an orthodox deacon, who
had been led by Gougb to leave off intox
icating beverages. Being of scientific hab
its, he tasted the milk of the cow, to sc.-
what had produced such strange symptoms.
He found it was milk punch, and, having
once tasted, he continued drinking, and it
was the quantity tints taken from the ani
mal by mail and calf that made her "as
lean as arrow." Chemical analysis proves
that the casein had all changed to whiski-v;
but the deacon will have to i lab his
perit-nce to a consistory of farmers to have
his story believed and recover his upright
position. Whether the cow will ever get
sober, or end her life in a tit of dclirem
tremens, is a question to which w< shall
look anxiously to see the solution of.
DAVIS' DISAITOIXTKO EXPECTATIONS.— The
Woodsock Patriot relates a conversation
that occurred in the Smitiisuni ui Institute
at Washington, in 185-f, when Jeff. Davis
predicted that the I nion would soon be di
vided into two Republics :
" Where will be the division or boundary
line be?" interrogated Professor Jewel t,
the librarian, to whom the conversation
was addressed.
' The line separating the slave and free
Stales," answered Mr. Davis.
"Then," said the Professor, "you expect
to claim the national capital ?"
"Of course," was the reply, "and this
very Smithsonian Institute will be within
the Southern Republic."
" But," asked the Professor, "how will
you bring about this division of the coun
try? Do you think the free States will
agree to it without a resort to arms?"
" Sir," said Jefferson Davis, in his sen
tentious manner, "the North never will
tight us on that question. There will be
110 blood-shed. When the South says she
will secede and become a distinct national
ity, the North will be glad to let her go,
and that peaceably. It will be a bloodless
revolution."
Olßl.S. —There are two kinds of girls. One
is a kind that appear best abroad—the girls
that are good for balks, rides, parties,visits
Ac, and whose chief delight is in such
things. The other is the kind that appear
best at home, the girls that are useful and
cheerful in the dining room, and all the pre
cincts at home. They differ widely in
character. One is often a torment at homo,
the other a blessing ; one is a ninth, con
suming everything about her. The other a
sunbeam diffusing life ami gladness to all
around her.
THE following is Aunt lletsey's descrip
tion of her milkman : " lie is the meanest
man in the world," she exclaimed. " lie
skims his milk on the top and then lie turns
it over and skims the bottom."
"Now, children," asked a school inspec
tor, " who loves all men !' A little girl,
not four years old, and evidently not posted
in the catechism, answered quickly, " All
women."
TITE discarded ends of cigars are can ful
ly collected in Paris, ground and silted,
and then used in wine shops, where any
person taking a glass of wine has the priv
ilege of smoking any amount of tohaCCO
I gratis.