Bradford reporter. (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, August 10, 1865, Image 1
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They will be entitled to 4 column, confined exclusively to their business, with privilege of changf. 55* Advertising lh all cases exclusive of sub scription to the paper. JOB PRINTING of every kind in Plain and Fan cy colors, done with neatness and dispatch. Hand bills, Blanks, Cards, Pamphlets, Ac., of every va riety mid style, printed at the shortest notice. The KEPOBTEB OFFICE has just been re-fitted with Power Presses, and every thing in the Printing line can be executed in the most artistic manner and at the lowest rates. TERMS INVARIABLY CASH. 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.