Evening Star Newspaper, November 17, 1894, Page 18

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER i7, 1894-TWENTY PAGES. FROM LAST CENTU Interesting Old Buildings Within WHERE WASHINGTON WORSHIPED An Old Darkey’s Description of the Times. MR. EVARTS’ LOG CABIN Written for The Evening Star. Were you ever a tramp? If not, put on 9m cla sult of clothes and a stout pair of shoes and take to the road. If you keep your eyes open and ask pienty of questions you will hardly go a dey’s journey in any direction around Washington without un- eerthing enough of interesting matter of divers sorts to more than pay you for the blisters on your heels. Take the old road which follows the Maryland shore of the Potomac down toward Piscataway and Accoxeek, and by the time you have got so far from the city that the natives begin saluting you—which they never do in the immediate vicinity of town—you can, in your imagination, date yourself back three or four generations without meeting any- thing modern enough in oppearance to “bring you out of it,” to use the phrase of the hypnotist. The region was once a rich tobacco country, ahd a spot of untilled land was more rare than a well-cultivated field is now. Tobacco, or the “sot-weed,” as it was called made the colony ene of the wealthiest of the new world, and the “sot-weed factor,” or agent, was a lord, to all intents and pyrposes, though in his lordliness somewhat roystering and Illiter- ate. Today his descendant, if he has clung to the land, ts being gradually forced to knuckle under to the vigorous second- growth of oak and pine, which is slowly encroaching upon the worn-out fields. But “De Ol. Gin’ral Took on an’ Swore.” those energetic, hard-drinking, bull-bait- ing and cock-fighting old colonists bufided well, and left to their posterity solid walls, often of brick imported from England, which are as good today as they were a century ago; and so their easy-xoing de- scendant has a home in as good repair and quite as respectable as his pedigree. You" will find any number of these picturesque old places, some in good condition. still, others occupied only in part, as the habit- able portions have been slowly contracted by advancing decay, others again quite abandoned and falling into complete ruin, or gone entirely, and their sites marked only by a solitary chimney standing like a gravestone. The Ancient Church, A ten-mile walk from the city will bring you to a point where the road makes a dden dip into the valley of Broad creck. After you descend the stony hill and cross the stream at its foot you wiil come upon @ little brick church, surrounded by two or three score of graves. The little edifice is in a fair state of repair, and there is little about it to suggest great age, but on one of the headstones in the yard you find the following inscription: “Here lies the Body of James Jones, who Departed this Life Septe ye. 16, 1700, in the 51 year of is x Here the inscription ends. So the church is at least one hundred and thirty-four lyears old. There is little of interest in the appearancé of the building, except the cu- rious little half-ruined portico on the end farthest away from the road; but after my fellow-tramp and myself had inspected the place we encountered a historian on the road a little beyond, in tke shape of an old darkey, feeble, halt and bent with years. It required little to start the springs of his conversation, and he said: Uncle's Description, “Yas, sah, dat's a pow’ful ole chu’ch, pow’ful ole! Mus’ be mo’ 'n fo’ hund’ed yeahs ole, I reckon. Dey tells me Gin’ral Gawge Washin’ton wushiped in dat chu’ch, sah, an’ he used to come hyeh in his bawge, rowed by eight big niggahs— him an’ his fambly. Sometimes he come hyah, sometimes he went to Alexandry, an’ sometimes he went to a leetle chu'ch @own to Pohick, on de Ferginny side o’ de rivah—jis how de idee struck him. I was tole dat, sah, by a ole niggah when I was Jes’ a leetle boy. Dis ‘yah ole niggah, dey say, he was my gret-gran-pap, but I dunno. Hit was mighiy hahd to keep track o’ dem things in slavery days, sah, when dey was a-buyin’ an’ a-sellin’, a-buyin’ an’ a-sellin’ niggahs de whole time, but, leastways, dis ‘yah ole m he say he seen de gin‘rai fir, to chy’ch hyeh many an’ many a ime, in a big seine boat. De gin'ral used 0 have a feeshin’ sho’ on his place, an’ dig "yah ole niggah, he say he seen ’em haulin’ seine hund’eds 0 times, an’ de gin'ral a yadin’ roun’ up to his waist in de watah, a swearin’ an’ a cussin’ when de seine git hung on a log—”" “Swearing and cursing!” we exclaim. “Surely not! They say that Washington never swore in his life.” “Well, I dunno,” sald the old darkey, shaking his head dubiously. “I reckon de gin’ral was mos’ like any yether man what ain’ sickly, an’ when he seine got hung up, why I spect he jes’ nachally took on swore like anybody else. I've seed right smaht o° seine haulin’ in my day, but I nevah yit see a seine took off a hang Without a pow'ful sight o' cussin’. Any- ways, when de shad an’ herrin’ season was done up de gin’ral jes have his seine boat fixed up fur a bawge, an’ in dat he come to chu’ch. My ole gret-gran’-pap say he often seen him teckin’ snuff wid de preach- er, jes’ by de do’ an’ talkin’ "bout de crops wid de folks. Yas, sah, dat’s a pow’ful ole chu’ch, sho’ ‘nuff.” Here was history indeed,and a little later we were able to verify it, so far, at least, as concerned Washington's attending serv- ice in the little church and hauling a seine on his own fishing shore. . The Parsonage. A quarter of a mile further down the road is the old parsonage, a large, plain, pretentious brick house of the colonial period, with a fine broad hall through the middle and a wide stairway, with galleries above. It must have been an elegant home a century ago, and the brick walls are still as sound as when first built, but the in- terior has been abused. The pancling and The Evarts’ Log Cabin. the laboriously hand-cut scrolls decorat- ing the walls are badly broken, but these, the arched cupboard in the dining room and the folding inside shutters in the deep recessed windows show that the place was expensively built. But it is many years since it has been occupied as the parson- age. The land around it is low and the marshy creek is but a few hundred yards away, so the old rooms are full of miasma. Mr. Evarts’ Cab) If you follow the road for a mile or so from here and then strike off across coun- try, a couple of miles’ walk will bring you to the river again at Swan creek, and here you will find another object of interest, though of later association. It is a com- fortable log cabin, built by Wm. M. Evarts during the Harrison edministration, for the entertainment of the President and others of his friends. It is picturesquely situated on the banks of the creek, a few hundred yards back from the river; but at this sea- son you can fairly see the dim specters of “the shakes’ stalking over the acres of putrescent marshes near at hund. It is a genuine log house, roughly chinked up and very commodious. Within, the rough-hewn legs constitute the only mural finish, and these, with the fine large fireplace, make an interesting interior. On the opposite side of the creek is the shanty of an old pot- hunter, and we called upon him for infor- mation about the house. This the old man readily gave, after a little preliminary con- versation, and, the following, in effect, is what he sald: “Got anything to drink about ye? No? Humph! Well, got any terbaccer? Ah, thank ye. Yes, my friend Billy Evarts built that house an’ fixed it up fine fur sort of place to have a blow-out in, oncet in a while—an’ as sort of a compliment to Har- rison, who uster live in a log house afore he got to be President. Billy often fetched him down ‘yer along with a hull lot of Senators an’ chaps o’ that kind. I uster furnish ‘em with game—ducks in the sea- son, an’ reed birds an’ artlin an’ craw-fish, fur trimmin’s, an’ all sorts o’ stuff; so, ye see, I stood in purty well with the gang. I'd git a mess o’ suthin’ an’ go up to the front door an’ Billy, he'd come out an’ say, “Why, hello, Joe, ole boy, got some good things? Walk right in. What'll yer have, Joe? I've got some prime ole applejack, or would you rather have a bottle of cham- peen? “ ‘Naw,’ I'd say, ‘None o’ yer sweet stuff fer me. Give me suthin’ with some teeth into it—suthin’ pizenous.’ ‘That's right,’ he'd say, an’ he'd bring out his dimmyjohn an’ turn his back while I smelt o’ the cork- hole. Oh, he was a gentleman! In the evenin’ Billy an’ his crowd would sit out in front 0’ the house an’ listen to the band an’ the switchback railroad over to River View, an’ spin yarns. Gosh, but they had good stuff! Whole boat loads of it. Why, if I had the stuff they uster get away with, I'd set up a@ bar over in 'Scataway an’ in , A Maryland Revolutionist. six months I'd own the hull coufty. Them times 1s gone by, though, an’ I reckon pore cle Billy Evarts will never come ‘yer no more. ‘The old man paused and seemed prey to gloomy thoughts, and to change their sub- ject, I ventured to remark: “The country seems a little run down, around here.” He regarded me with intense scorn and resentment Run down!” he repeated, with indigna- tion. “Run down! No, 'tain’t a daggoae bit run down, except when you city chaps come yer an’ run it down. That makes me tired! Run down? Why, look at the people! Look at me! Look at the stock! Things is a darned sight better now than they ever was—except the sile. The sile is a little cver-worked, maybe, but that's nuthin’. The stock is improvin Cc. BH. > Preparatory. From Truth. As the Broadway cable car approached the post office a young man sprang directly in front of It and waving his arms cried: “Now, come on, will you?” The car struck him squarely in the chest and threw him ten feet ahead. Rising quick- ly, he rushed back at the car and was thrown ahead again. He was about to make anoth- er rush when a policeman pulled him from the track. “What's the matter with yer?” growled the officer. “Off yer head, eh?” “Not at all,” replied the young man. “TI was just getting myself in shape for the foot ball game this afternoon,” OLIVER LINDSAY'S STRATAGEM —_ -+ HOW ACLEVERLAD SAVED FORT HUN- -TER FROM AN INDIAN MASSACRE. pL oe Re 8 Written for The Evening Star. About sunrise of a crisp October morning in the year 1756 Oliver Lindsay, a slim, sun- burned lad of fifteen, was standing on the platform of the Fort Hunter stockade, looking very discontentedly at the autumn landscape. As far as he could see russet and gold-tinted mountains sloped to the shores of the broad Susquehanna. Below him, and a few feet to one side, a stolid- looking sentry paced before the wide-open gates. From the low log structure of the fort proper, behind the lad, came the eager prattle of children, the shrill voices of wo- men and the rattle of tinware. In the yard a few scattered groups of soldiers were lighting their after-breakfast pipes or pol- ishing and cleaning their flint-lock mus- kets. It was more than a year after Braddock’s disastrous defeat near Fort Duquesne, and the murderous Shawanese and Delawares, in their slow and unopposed advance with calping knife and tomahawk, had pene- trated to this part of the province of Penn- sylvania. At least they had been in the vi- cinity of Shamokin a week before, at which time the scattered settlers had flocked in haste to the recently constructed forts along the river. A dozen families were under the protec- tion of Fort Hunter, which was garrisoned by two sergeants and thirty-four privates. Mr. Lindsay, with his wife, had gone on to Philadelpnia to urge the need of more effi- cient protectiop upon the assembly, leaving Oliver in care of neighbors at the fort. It was a dull and monotonous experience for the lad, and he heartily wished himself back at his cozy home near the base of Pe- ter’s mountain. All through the summer he had looked forward to the joys of Octo- ber. Now, instead of gathering nuts for winter or tracking deer and smaller game, he was a prisoner behind the tall stockade. He could have better stood danger and ex- citement, but there was not even that to relieve the irksomeness of life at the fort. No Indian atrocities had occurred within thirty miles, and the scouts who went out daily reported no signs of savages. The settlers themselves were d¢contented, and admitted that they had been hasty in aban- doning their homes, while the fact that the gates were left open by day showed plainly what the soldiers thought of the situation. “I'd like to stretch my legs on the moun- tain and pick up a few chestnuts Oliver remarked to the sentry below him. “They're just dropping out of the burrs now. I won- der if there's any danger?’ Private Gideon Gimbie, having an exalted idea of his own dignity and of the rigid du- ties of his post, frowned slightly by way of reply. But Sergt. Piper, who chanced to be passing along, overheard the latter part of Oliver's renark. “Don't be afraid, sonny," he said, re- assuringly. “Your’ hair ‘ain't in ’ any danger of bein’ lifted. Why, I'd make my afterdavit there ain't a redskin within forty miles. ‘They know better than to meddle with provincial troops, an’ as long as you people stay in this fort you're safe.” “{ didn't mean that,” Oliver began, in- dignantly, but the sergeant had already paced out of hearing, and was negotiating @ loan of tobacco from his fellow officer. A moment later Oliver jumped down from the platform and thoughtfully crossed the yard. “Sergeant Piper says ‘there's no danger,” he reflected, “and he ought to know. ‘I'm just ravenous for chestnuts. I needn't go far, and I can easily get back before I’m missed.” He entered the block house, and when he came out the rear door two minutes afterward he had an empty powder bag stuffed into his pocket. A glance around satisfied him that the coast was clear, He mounted the stockade on the river side, climbed over, and dropped lightly down in the grass. From the bluff on which the fort stood the lad descended to the ravine of the creek, and after following this for half a mile he struck across the thick timber to the first mountain. The chestnuts were not so plentiful as he had expected, and he trudged up one side of the mountain and down the other. He sorely wished that he had his gun along, for quail and turkeys constantly started up before him, and once he caught a distant glimpse of a deer. Begulled by the beauty of the day and by the intoxication of his freedom, Oliver strayed across the valley to what was known as Little Mountain, where he filled his bag with chestnuts in a short time. It was now long past noon, and he ruefully discovered that he was hungry and a good distance from the fort. ‘As he lay stretched on the sunny slope of a rock, partly up the mountain, a bright idea occurred to him. Only a mile and a half away the sharp face of Peter's Moun- tain dropped into the Susquehanna, and he could see the very clump of trees behind which the home clearing stood. He re- membered that in the hasty preparation for flight he had concealed his fowling boat under bushes at the mouth of the run. What was to prevent his getting it now, and paddling down the river to the fort? ‘There was no obstacle, as far as Oliver could see. A short tramp through the for- est would bring him to his home, and the river was close by. lt was far quicker and easier to return by that route than by the way he had come. Danger from !n- dians did not occur to him. ‘The more he thought of the pian the bet- ter ne liked it. He felt a strong desire to see how the place looked after a week of solitude. Perhaps the chickens and ducks had not been able to scratch a living for themselves, and were dying of starvation; or Brown Bess, the cow, which his father had driven far into the woods, had re- turned to the empty stable and missed the companionship of the two horses, who by this time had carried Mr. Lindsay and his wife to Philadelphia. From simply wishing Oliver easily per- suaded himself that it was his bounden duty to visit the settlement when so con- venient an opportunity offered. With a glance at the hazy sun he scrambled down the slope to the heavy forest below, and struck briskly oft in a bee line for Peter's mountain. Before long he recognized famihar spots. Here was the pool of the brook where he had snared the big trout, and there the clump of hazel bushes in which he had roused and shot his first pheasant. ‘At last he broke from the shadowy oak and chestnut timber into the meager clear- ing where stood the log house and stable. ‘As he paused with a natural instinct of caution he {zlt a sharp pang at the con- trast betwee. his life here and at the fort. All seemed quiet and peaceful, so he crossed a field of corn stubble to the stable. The door was still closed and there was no sign of Brown Bess. ‘The chickens were scratching about as calmly as though they had not been at the mercy of four-footed prowlers for a week past, and the occa- sional quack of a happy duck came from the bldden chanrel of the run at the foot of the clearing. ‘A few steps farther brought? Oliver to the house and he opened the door and entered. He glanced carelessly through the two lower rooms, noting that what furniture had been too heavy fo take to the fort was undisturbed. Next he climbed the rickety steps to the loft overhead, where he knew that geome maple sugar was stored in a crarny of the rafters. He easily found it and was rolling a delicious morsel in his mouth when a noise outside stiffened his limbs with sudden terror. He heard footsteps on the frosty ground, the cack‘ing of frightened and fleeing fowls, and the guttural tones of several human voices. Then the intruders came into the house and moccasined feet shuffled softly over the floor. Indians, of course, was Oliver's instant conviction. For a minute he simply could not move from fright, and his throbbing heart sesmed to come clear up into his mouth. A_recsistless fascination kept his eyes on the opening at the head of the steps, where he expected an Indian’s scalp lock to appear every second. At the sume time he could see the outlines of the one shuttered window of the loft, but he dared not stir to reach it, ror could he have opened the shutter without a noisy creak- ing of the rusty hinges. When the stepense was n.ore than the lad could endure, and no prying feet had yet been planted cn the steps, he noise- lessly lowered himself to his hands and knees, let go of the bug of nuts, and crept a few inches to a spacious crack in the floor. He looked timidly down and saw enough to make his blood run cold. Directly beneath him, and close to the kitchen chimney, stood seven Indians, both Delawares and Shawanees. They | were armed with muskets and tomahawks, and their brutal faces were hideously streaked with red and yellow ochre. One had a reeking scalp dangling from his belt, and raveral ware f-~4-d aad preaay red costa that had evidently Belonged to some of Braddock's ill-fated soldiers. Another, to whose face a broken nose lent @ most ferocious aspect, held in his hand a pair of plump hens, which he had captured and killed outside. From his words and gestures he seemed anxious to make a fire in the chimney and cook the fowls. To this the others plainly objected, and after they had talked for awhile in low and broken English, Oliver suddenly discovered that they were on thelr ‘way to attack Fort Hunter. wil The lad now almost forgot his own peril as he listened keenly for further informa- tion, and before long his patience was amply rewarded. He learned that the Indians be- low him were the advance guard of a larger force, which they expected to join shortly at the foot of Peter's mountain. Then they planned to push on to Fort Hunter, reach it before sunset, and rush through the gates. It appeared that scouts had apprised them of how easily the fort could be taken by surprise, and of the feeling of confidence and security that prevailed there. Though Oliver knew that his situation was still very critical, the uppermost thought in his mind was to thwart the threatened attack, and he saw pretty clear- BRITISH INVASION Graphic Account of the Burning of the Public Buildings Here. —_—+ WIDESPREAD PANIC AMONG CITIZENS The Paper Read Before the His- torical Society by M. |. Weller. THE BRITISH COMMANDERS ‘The invasion of this city by the Brittish ly how it could be done, provided the op- portunity was given him. “Hurry up and go, you painted fiends,” he whispered under his breath. ‘Then we'll gee who gets to the fort first. Oh, but you'll suffer for all the settlers you've murdered! . : However, the Indians were provokingly slow about going. They kept talking and gesturing, and all the time Oliver shivered, and perspired for fear they would take a notion to explore the loft. - $ But finally, after ransacking a chest of, drawers and slashing it with their toma- hawks, the whole party slouched out of the door and their soft tread faded from hear- ing. Doubtless mere curiosity had drawn them to the house, or the hope that it was still inhabited. Oliver did not dare to stir for several min- utes, though it seemed a much longer time than that owing to his excited state of mind. Then he rose, stretched his cramped legs @ bit and cautiously descended the steps to the lower floor. ‘The house stood near the southwest cor- ner of the clearing, and looked toward the river. From the door a narrow road, with bushes on each side, led straight for fifty yards to the thick chestnut timber; several hundred yards to the right lay the base of the mountain, and a short distance to the left the clearing was bounded by the chan- nel of the run, Oliver hurried first to the right hand end of the house, and peeping through a crevice of the logs he saw the last of the Indians just vanishing in the rocky thickets of the mourtain. He waited a little longer to better his chances of escaping observation, and then crawled on hands and knees out f the door. He rose to his feet as soon as e was fairly started down: the road, and stooping low he ran swiftly between the bushes and tall grass. He was close to the shelter of the trees in 1814 and the destruction of the public buildings by fire constitute one of the most dramatic episodes in the history of Wash- ington. Although 80 years have elaps@] ‘since the disaster of that August day, the historical interest in: the event hes not abated, as was demonstrated at “when a paper on that subject was read by Mr. M. 1. Weller. Not only weré interest= | ing and bit little known incidents brought out by the paper, but in the discussion fol- lowing the reading, which was participated in generally by the members, the fact was developed that a great deal of attention has been paid by those interested in the early history of the city to this particula> event. Mr. Weller in his paper spoke of the in- tense indignation which filled the country at that time, and said that immediately party differences vanished, the national honor being at stake, and “every one railied to the support of the government, anxtous to efface the disgrace heaped upon the coun- try, and avenge the vandalism committed by the enemy. American manhood re- sponded at once to the call, soon redeeming the disaster of that fatalgAugust day by the brilliant victories of September 10, 1814, at Baltimore, and. January 8, 1815, before New Orleans.” The acts of the British soldiery in this city were, said the writer, condemned by the whole civilized world. He added that this wantonness of the torch can never be when the sight of a copper-colored snake | forgotten nor condoned, and it ever remains squirming across the path caused him to] @ Stigma on England's fame. start back and spring erect. Instantly, but tod late, he repented his impruder musket cracked sharply on his right and he felt a bullet whistle by his ear. Oliver was badly frightened, but he had his share of the pluck and grit that made the settlers of those early days what they were. As he plunged into the timber a second report rang out, and a bunch of ledves was nipped from a sapling at his side. He sped on like a deer, wisely keeping to the road, where he could make the best speed. He now heard no sound of pursuit, but well he knew that the crafty. savages Were coming swiftly and silentiy on his track. Fuster and faster the lad ran. What if the boat should be gone? The thought struck a chill of terror to his heart, for in that event all hope ef life was gone as well. On the boat hung his. only chance of es- caping the tomahawk-—of saving the occu- Pants of the fort froma like fate. . The remembrance that other lives than his own were at stake, kept up his courage and strength, but, he, was badly winded when he came to where the road swerved to ford *:e run. Here he took to the shal- low ci:annel, leaping rocks and logs and splashing through pools. At last he caught.a glimmer of the broad river ahead, and an instant later he eagerly tcre apart a clump of. water birches. He uttered a low cry of delight, for there was the boat just as he had left it, the paddle still lying on the bottom. Oliver quickly dragged the light craft over sond and gravel and launched {t on the swift current of the river. He tumbled in and began to paddle with all his might for mid-stream. Hope thrilled his heart as he gianced back between the strokes. The shore was thirty yards behind—forty—fifty. fh! There they were. Out from the bushes leapt the painted savages, and a blood- curdling whoop echoed from mountain to nountain. Two muskets cracked, but still the daring lad paddied on, hoping to in- crease the distance before dropping under cover. But a third shot tore the paldie from his grasp, and then quickly a clever ruse flashed into his mind. He uttered a ery of feigned agony, tossed up his arms, and fell limply to the bottom of the boat. There was silence for a moment, and then the bullets began to whistle. ‘Some flew cverhead, and some spattered the wa- ter roundabout; half a dozen piérced the sides of the boat, but luckily did not harm the prostrate lad. Finally the fusillade ended, and not a sound was heard but the rippling of the current. The Indians clearly believed that the fugitive was dead, and not worth the waste of more powder and ball. The boat drifted on and on, now pitching and tossing amid rapids, now grinding on submerg-d rocks and grass-bars. Oliver did not dare to rise. He knew that the current trended toward mid-stream, and in this thought there was comfort and cheer. Fey fully half an hour he lay on his back, gazing up at tne blue October sky. Then, Satisfied that the danger was past, he sat up and looked about. Peter’s mountain was hidden by a bend of the river, and there was no trace of the Indians on the shore. With part of his shirt he plugged up several of the bullet-holes that were leaking, and then started to paddle lustily. In a little less than an hour Oliver landed under the stockade of Fort Hunter, and walked calmly through the open gate. There had been considerable anxiety over his absence, but no one had a word of re- proof for the brave lad when he had reiated his thrilling adventure. At sunset the Indians arrived, doubtless disappointed to find the gates closed. The watchful sentries discovered them lurking in the timber, and they were greeted with so hot and scattering a fire that they re- treated in haste, leaving three dead behind. During the perilous weeks that followed Fort Hunter was not molested, and in time the settlers went safely back to rebuild on the charred erhbers of their homes. M. G. ———-—-ee___- Plaster in Colors. Colored piaster is now so frequently used for finishing the walls of new houses, that workmen do not object to its use as strong- ly as they did a few years ago, and it js rcw a common thing to see the walls of one room colored a pretty buff or yellow, ard of others soft reds, old rose and other coiors. It 1s asserted, however, that too i1uch of the colored powder added to the plaster in- jures its quality. Builders are, however, experimenting with a mortar pulp that comes in all colors, and which, it is claimed, improves the mortar. A writer in the Art Interchange says that in one of its green shades it 1s “cool, delightful and fasci- nating,” and gives the following directions for its use: “To prepare mortar in. this manner, a small quantity should first be mixed with coloring matter and a portion dried before the fire. If the shade is too light or too dark, more'color or more mor- tar can be added’ until it suits. Be sure to mix all that 1s needed for one room at a time, as It is difficult to match. The ceiling should be several shades lighter than the walls. eel In New York, From Life. “Is he a good artist?” She glanced at hig innccent Philadelphian nibs with petulant dfsdain. “He 1s a clever. artist,” pityingly. she answered fo artists are good.” so An Eight-Year-Old Scho! From Babyhood. James Mill began the instruction of his son, the future economist, in Greek at three years, and conducted it so relentlessly that before he was eight the young John Stuart--who had meanwhile found time to devour Hume, Robertson and Gibbon; had already read the whole of Herodotus, Xenophon’s “Anabusis, 'yropaedia” and “Memoriabilia of Socrates,” parts of Lucian and Isocrates and. six of the “Dialogues” of Plato; that is to say, vastly more than is required for admission to any and far more than is taught in most of the colleges of this country. BUCKINGIAW'S DYB can be pitied when at home, and ts ucttarmly successful: In coloring a beown or black, Hence Sta prank moselerity. « THE WHISKERS He referred to the account of the capture of the city A | as published by Edward D. Ingraham in 1849, by John 8. Williams in 1856, and by Lieut. George R. Gleig in 1826. He said that with these standard histories every one was quite familiar, but the graphic re- cital by Dr, James Ewell at that period, Mr. Weller stated, the leading physician of Washington, of the British occupation of our city is probably unknown, he said, to the majority of the citizens. Gen. Ross’ Headquarters. Mr, Weller then read extracts taken from Dr. Ewell’s account. He said that Dr. Ewell possessed ample facilities to acquire a knowledge of the facts that were men- tloned, owing to the fact that his house, at the northeast corner of Ist and ‘A streets scutheast (this site is now included in the grounds of the new Congressional Library building), was selected by the commander of the British forces, Gen. Robert Ross, as his headquarters, Dr. Eweli's residence was the corner cne in the block of five houses known as Car- roll row. The doctor speaks of receiving the news that the British squadron was in the Chesapeake bay and had landed a small army at Benedict, on the river Patuxent. He believed that the British had no other object in view than the destruc:ion of the American flotilla, which had been pursued some weeks before up the Patuxent. It was furthest from his thoughts tnat an attaek was intended on Washington, which was located fifty miles from the enemy's ship- ping. Dr, Ewell speaks of the change in the situation when, on the evening of the 22d, Gen. Winder retreated precipitately to this city. On the same evening, Col. Miner, with his regiment from Virginia, arrived In the city. ‘The doctor accompanied Col. Miner, at the latter’s request, to see the President, and subsequently, at the President's suggestion, visited Gen.’ Armstrong, the Secretary of War. On returning from these visits to his home with Col. Miner, the latter expressed the fear that, owing to the indifference of the authorities, the city wouil be sacrificed. On account of the delay in equipping the regiment of Col. Miner with arms, Dr. Ewell states that they were not able to join the army before the retreat. Panic in This City. He speaks of the movements of the forces upder the command of Gen. Winder, and gives an account of the oaitle at Bladens- burg. The report of the firing during the engagement was, of course, plainiy heard by the citizens of Washington, and they were naturally in a state of great apprehension. The flight of our troops into the city was followed by 2 general movement on the part of the citizens to secure places of safety for their families and their property. Dr. Ewell was unable to obtain even a cart to remove hig family to the country, as he wished to do,’ and so he took his wife and two daughters, leaving his uouse and prop- erty in the hands of servants, to the resi- dence of Mrs. Orr, a neighbor, who lived about a hundred yards from his house. As Mrs. Orr was then confined to her bed by sickness, the doctor conclided from that fact that it would be a safe place for his family, and also Mrs, Orr. was anxious to have him there, as her husband was away from home and some of her servants had run off with the firightened multitude. He states that the enemy made his appearance in the city about twilight. He speaks of the burning of the house of Mr. Sewall, from which the British had been fired upon, kililng two men, wounding several and killing the horse of Maj. Gen, Ross. He then states that the navy yard and the Capitol and the President's House and the war office were set on fize, the con- flagration being seen for a long ‘distance. The treasury building was burned the next morning. He believes that the defeat at Bladensburg was largely due to the fact that the troops had not been prepared for the cenflict, as they had been brought to- gether hurriedly and were poorly armed, as well as being wearied by long marching. and exhausted from lack of food. Politeness of Gen. Ross. While the buildings were burning, Dr. Dwell states that five or six British soldiers presented themselves at the residence of Mrs. Orr and asked very politely for some- thing to eat. Their request was granted, and Dr. Ewell adds that they conducted themselves with the utmost gocd behavior. Seeing lights in every room of his own house, and fearing that {t, too, had been set on fire, he asked the aid of the soldiers, who promised to help him in every way. Soon one of his servants arrived, who in- formed him that his house had been plun- dered by the British soldiers. He then gives an account of his introduction to Admiral Cockburn by Rev. Mr. McCormick. He also met Gen. Ross at the same time. He told these officers of his fears in re- gard to the safety of his residence, and they toth essured him that private property was to be held sacred, and that, if necessary, they would place their soldiers in charge of his house. The doctor said that the conver- sation took place in front of his own resi- dence, and he informed Gen. Ross that, it was his house. The latter told him that they had just decided to occupy that house as their headquarters, but he added that he would not think of tresspassing on a private family, and would at once order the removal of his baggage. Dr. Ewell urged him to stay, and he final- ly gomplied, but insisted that he shculd bring Mrs. Ewell home. This experience anl sindlar ones with the British officers and soldiers, the doctors says, he relates so that now the war is at an end, he might ald in rekindling the pleasant fla:n2 of former frierdsbip and lead to the performance of those fraternal acts which will gratify the common parent of us all. Leaving his house in the posseesion of the British gen- eral, he returned to his family at the house of Mrs. Orr. Destruction of the Library. The next day, on returning to his house, he was a2costed rather insolently by one of the British soldiers, and Gen. Ross, over- hearing the remark, rebuked the soldier se- verely. Dr. Ewell remarked in course of conver- sation with Gen. Ross that it was a great pity the elegant library had been burnt with the Capitol Gen Ross replied, with much the last | meeting of the Columbia Historical Society,’ A DOCTOR'S MISTAKE It Seemed Slight, but It Caused the Death of a Brilliant Man. IT WAS UNINTENTIONAL The Story Told in Full and the Les- son It Teaches Made Pl “It was a doctor's mistak These words recently appeared in the newspaper accounts of the death of a brilliant American statesman, who passed away in the prime of life. His malady, with its complicated symptoms, had long puzzled the physicians who attended him, and it was not until after his death that the true cause was discovered. The doctors had suspected cotarrh of the stomach, liver complaint, bladd: trouble; they had surmised about all other ail- ments, but they never once guessed that it was Bright's disease which was slowly but surely blot- ting-out the ifs of thelr patient. Mistakes have been tle secret of many an up- thnely end In this’ mysterious and treacherous dis- case. Ationg the vast number of medical remedies hew very few are evetweffective im relicving dis- orders of the liver and "kidneys? A mistake ta the use of these remedies is often Mable to cause death, and doctors, even the best of them, are frequently im danger of muking a fatal error. Bot there are some things in medical science about which there can be no mistake, and which can be used in the most critical cases without fear of fatal consequences. ‘Phat is why so wany broad- minded physicians throughout the world bave unit- ed in proclatming the merits of at least ope Auer- icun iwedical discovery, because they kuow from éxperience that it is safe and certain. Here, for example, are a few representative opinions which show how thoroughly advanced medical mew agree on this important subject ‘The late Dr. Holland, who was an educated phy- sician, some years before be died wrote iu Serib ner’s Monthly “It is a fact that many of the best proprietary medicines of the day are more successful than many physicians, and most of them have been discovered or used in actual medical practice. | When. however, “any, shrewd persoti powing thelr virtue id foreseeing their popular res and advertises them, in the opimon ted all virtue goes out of tl 1 Edward Robeson of the I wite to a London Dector, as follows: *! experie 3 that elief and effect more eures hy the ’s Safe Cure than by all other medicines ascertainable to the pro- fession.”” The inte Dr. Dio Lewis, who geldon p any medicine, wrote as follows: “If I found my: self the victim of a serious’ kidney trouble I use Warner's Safe Cure. ‘The testimony of Higent aud very reputable gentle- men hardly leaves room to doalt that it is one of those happy discoveries which occasionally bring ring humanity. . R. A. Gtnn, Dean of the United States Medi- sand editor of the Medical Tribune, some sluce wrote and published a book in which he raid: ‘Phe ingredients of Warner's Safe Cure are among the most valuable medicines of our materia inedica, aud the combination Is such as to Jnsure the best possible action ou the kidueys and urinary organs." Dr. Andrew Wilson, F. R. 8., editor of Health, in. replying through his’ paper ‘to a. correspondent who had weltten to him reganiing Warner's Safe Cure, said: “Warner's Safe Cure is perfect and perfectly relial:le."* ‘These are physici:ns so skilled, so fn so honest, so true to the conscientious teachings of their noble profession that they dare t e truth fo Kings or queews er the whole world. All honor jo them, concer I lament most sincerely I was not apprised of the circumstance, for, had I known it in time, the books would most certainly have been saved." ‘Neither do I suppose, general,” said J, “you would have burnt the President's house had Mrs. Madison remained at hom “No, sir,” replied be. “I make war neither against letters nor ladies, and I hav2 heard so much in praise of Mrs. Mad- ison that I would rather prota:t than burn & house which sheltered such an excellent lady. Gen. Ross is also quoted by Dr. Ewell as praising Commodore Barney for his _be- havior in the battle of Bladensburg. Gen Ross is also reported to have frequently ex pressed the deepest regret that war had taken place be:ween two nations so nearly allied in consanguinity and interest. Dr, Ewell mentions some instances fIlus- trazing the magnanimity of Admiral Cock- burn. He mentions an interview which four citizens of Alexandria had with Admiral Cockburn, the purpose being to secure safety for the town on conditions of capit- ulation. Admiral Cockburn told them that he was ready to negotiate with them, and that he wanted provisions, and would al- low a fair price for every article furnished. The Bank of Washington, which was then located on New Jersey avenue, south of the Capitol, was one of the buildings ordered to be destroyed, under the impression that it was public "property. When Admiral Co¢kburn was informed that it was private property he directed that it should not be disturbed. Tribute to Admiral Cockburn. Dr. Ewell says that Admiral Cockburn left with him quite a large sum of gold for the benefit of a woman who had been wounded by one of the soldiers. He sald that this money was more than necessary for the one for whom it was intended, and he found urgent use for it in supplying food for the forty-seven British soldiers who were Injured by the terrible explosion at Greenleaf’s Point, when the powder that had been stored in a well was set off by a match which was unwittingly thrown into the well by one of the British soldiers, Gen. Ross expressed his distress at being com- pelled to leave these wounded soldiers be- hind. As Gen, Ross was about to mount his norse to leave the city he expressed to Dr. Ewell his regret for the robbery committed of the doctor's property by the British soldiers and assured him that for those in- juries, as also for the services he had prom- ised to render the sick and wounded British soldiers which were left behind, that he should be rewarded. Dr. Ewell cared for the wourded, and in a few days he was notified by Dr. Worthington that the latter had been appointéd by the United States government to take charge of the British prisoners. As Dr. Worthington was the su- perintendent of the hospital at Bladensburg, as well as the one in Washington, he asked Dr. Ewell to assist him in the discharge of his duties. Dr. Ewell expresses the belief that if Gen. Ross had lived he would have been liberally remunerated for the articles which were taken from his house, as well as for his medical attendance to the British sol- diers and for tne supplies over and above the allowance made by the United States government. Anecdote About Gen. Washington, Dr. Ewell says that there was a senti- ment among the citizens of hostility to- ward the British soldiers left in this cit}, and that he was branded as a traitor and a friend to the British on account of his serv- ices to them, but, he adds, that those who entertained such sentiments were only a portion of the citizens. Dr. Ewell states that as Admiral Cock- burn was Jooking at his men while they were throwing into the streets the types of the National Intelligencer, an American gentleman observed to him: “If Gen. Washington had been alive you would not have gotten into this city so easily.” No, sir,” replied the admiral. “If Gen, Washington had been President we should never have thought of coming here.” Mr. Weller stated. that Dr. Ewell’s ac- count, referred to above, was published in 1817 in the third edition of a book written by Dr. Ewell and called “The Medical Com- panion. —_—— Hadn‘t Time to Take Them Of. From the Omaha Bee. Fond parent—“Goodness, how you look, child! You are soaked.” Frankie—“Please, pa, I fell into the canal.” “What! With your new trousers on “I didn’t have time, pa, to take 'em off.” RAILROADS RAILWAY, (PIEDMONT AIR LINE), Schedule in effect October 21, 1894. All trains arrive and leave at Penusylvania Page senger Station, ington, D. C. 8:00 a.m. dal 1 for Danville and intere mediate stations, and connects at Lynchburg with, the Norfolk and ‘Western railroad westward, daily, and ‘at Manassas for Strasburg, daily, except Sam 7. 11:01 a.m, THE GREAT SOUTHER: MAIL Daily, opeates Pullman, Hatfet Sieeperts New ‘York and ‘Washington via Charlotte und Coe lumbia ‘to Savannah aud Jacksonville, unising e Charlotte, with Sleeper for Augusta, ‘also. carriew through Pullman Buiet Sleeper New Work to Monts gomery, ith connections for New Orleans. hects at Atlacta for Birmingham, Ala., Columbus and Greenville, Miss. 4:45 ‘p.m.—Dally for Orange and Interwediate stations a through train for Front Royal Strasburg, daily, except Sunday. 10:43 pn. WASHINGTON AND SOUTHWESTs EUN VESTIBULED LIMITED, composed of Pull man Vestibuled Sleepers and Dining Cars, runs vial Charlotte and Columbia to Augusta, Savannah, Jacksonvitie ‘and Tampa, carrying: Pullman Slee Peni York to Tampa and to Augusta. Also operates: Tullman |Siceper ‘New York to New Orleans Via tlanta and Montgomery, New York to Asheville fis, Salsbury, Washington to Memphis, via Birms {ogham, and’ Dining Car Greensboro’ to Monte sLRADS ON WASHINGTON AND ONTO DIVIc SION leave Washington at 9:10 a.m, dally, 4:88 only, for Round Hill, nd 6:33 om, daily, for Herndon. eturning, arrive Washington S334 tee 200 p.m., daily, from Round HU, and 6:53 dally, xcept Sunday, from Herndon ‘only, ' ‘Through trains from the south arrive Washinge fon 718 a.m, (2:20 p.m. and ':90_ pus, anaes ion Sz a.m. ily, exe Sunday, 8:40 a.m. datly from Grange. eat and informa 1200 ‘kets, Sleeping Car tion furnished at offices, 511 and Pennsylvas 2 ie ee eo + Gen. Mi W. A. TURK, Gen. Pass. L. S. BROWN, Gen. Agt. Pass. Dept. PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD. Btation corner of Gth and B streets. In effect June 24, 1804. 10:30 A.M. PENNSYLVANIA ‘LIMITED.—Pullmas, Compartment, Sleeping, Dining, Smoking and Obser= jon Caré Harrisburg to Chicago, Cincinnati, In- Cleveland and Tol Buffet Parlor bur. inburg., Vator ab Dining Cars Hare arg. Marl os Hare risburg to Pittsburg. 3:15 P.M., CHICAGO AND ST. LOUIS EXPRESS. —Pullman buffet Parlor Car to Harristurg. Sleep- ing and Dining Cars Harrisburg to St. Louis, Cine ciunati, Louisville and Chicago. 7:10 P.M. WESTERN EXPRESS, —Pullman ing Car ‘to Chicago, and Harrisburg to Clev Dining Car to Chictigo.. 10 P.M. SOUTHWESTERN EXPRESS. —Pullmam ing and Dining Cars to St. Louis, and Sleep- Car Harrisburg: to Li ane 340 PM. PACIFIC EXPRESS.—Pullman Sleeps ing Car to Pittsburg. 1:50 a.m. for Kane, Canandaigua, Rochester and Nisgara ‘Falls daily, except Sunday, ra and Renovo, daily, except 4 weport daily, 3:15 p.w. 210 p.m. for Wilijamsport, Rochester, Buffalo and Niagara Falls daily, except Saturday, with Sleeping Car Washington to Rochester. 10:40°p.m. for Erie, Canandaiguay Hochester and Buffalo daily, and Niigara Falls daily, except Sat- urday, ith "Sleeping Wash: to Almira, and Saturdays only Washington to Rochester For Phlladelphi. New Y be East. Re Agi ne lor Cars, with Dining Car from Baltimore, ew York daily, for Philadelphia week Guys, od 32, 4:20, 102 (ining Car), 9:00, 9:40 (Dining Car), 11:00 (Dining Car}. am. 1 % and 11:25 p.m. Qn Sunday, 7:20, ‘ini Car), 9:00, 11:00 (Dining Car) aan, 12:15, 3:15, :20, 10:00 and 11:35 p.m. Por Philadelphia onl 7:59 a.m, week gays, Express, 2: anys " and 5: For Boston without change, 7:50 a.m. week days and 3:15 p.m. dally.) For Baltimore, 6:25, 7:20, esas Poa 9:00, E " 1 p.m. Li nd 11:35 p. For’ Pope's Creek Line, 7:20 a.m. and 4:36 p.m. daily, except Sunday. For Annapolis, 7:20, 9:00 and 11:50 a.m., and 4:20 p.m. daily. except Sunday. Sundays, 9:00 a. m. and 4:20 p.m Atlantic Coust Line Express for Richmond, Jack« sonville aud Tampa, 4:30 a.m., 3:30 p.m.’ dally, Richmond and Atlanta, $:30 p.m. daily.” Kichwond only, 10:57 am. week days. comimodation for (Quantico, 7:45 a.m. daily, aud 4:56 pun. weer dase r or Alexandria, 4:31 . 7:45, 8:40, 9:45, m., 12:50, 1:40, 3:25, 4:25, 5:00, 1B. (8:03, 0-08 and 11-2 p.m. On Sanday 4:30, 7:45, 9143 a.m, 2:40, 0:18, 8202 and 10% pm. Leave Alexandria for Washington, 6:05, 6: 7:05, 8:00, 9:10, 10:15, 10:28 00, 2.180 m., 2:15, p.m. Ticket ‘offic reet and Pennsylv: : and at the station, 6th and B streets, where orders can be left for the check. ing of baggage to destination from hotels and resi Ces. 8. M. PREVOST, J, R. Woop, a2 Ceneral Manager. Gen. Pass. Agt. se! BALTIMORE AND OHIO RAILROAD. Schedule in effect June 9, 1894. Leave Washington from station, corner of New, Jersey avenue and C street, For Chicago and Northwest, Vestibuled Limited express trains, 11:15 a.m., 8:00 p.m, ‘or Cincinnati, St. Louis and Indianapolis, Vestle buled Limited, 3:30 p.m., express, 12:10 night. For Pittsburg and Cleveland, express dally 11:15 and 8:35" p m. For Lexington and Staunt For Winchester and For Luray, N: Pon dalle, sleet hrough. .m., daily, ‘sleeping ears t P For Lares, 3:30 pen. da‘ly. For Baltimore, week days, 34:20, 5:00, 52 37:10, 37:30, (8:00 45 minutes), $:90, 9:30 10 Ilnutes), 8280, x0: x2: 300 45° minutes), #325, 4 6:30, 18:00, x9:00, 10:00, x11:30, 11 ni For "Annapolis. 7;10-und 8:80 a.m, {3'15 and 4:28 p.m. 1 p.m. days, a.m., pm. For Frederick, ait:15 a.m.,’ ¢1:15, 04:30, 05:30 m. P For Hagerstown, a11:15 a.m. and 05:30 p.m, For Boyd and way points, b9:40 p. For Gaithersburg and way ce 26:00, 28:00 a.m., 012:50, 03:00, 04:33, D5:85, "7:05," b11:30 ‘m. Por Washington Junction and way points, os 99:00 a.m, c:18 p.m. Express trains, stopping at incipal stations only, a4:30, 05:30 p.m. fox LUE LINE FOR’ NEW YORK AND PHILADELPHIA, For Philadelptiia, “New York, “Boston, and. the east, daily, 4: 8 (10:00 a. ex. Sun. Dining Car), (12:60 Dining Car), 3:00. 6:05 Dining Car 8:00" (11:80 p.m." Sleeping Car, open at 10 oe be . Buffet Parlor Cars on all day trains. For Atlantic City, Cape May, Sea Isle City and Brigantine Reach, week dara, 4:20 and 10:00 a.th.g L noon; Sunda: 4:20 a.in. and 12:00 noon. @ Except Sundry," b Daily. © Sunday ouly. press trains. Baggage called for and checked foom hotels and residences by Union ‘Transfer Company on orders left, at ticket ofices, O19 and 1351 Va. ave., and at 3 é nb. CAMPBELD, CHAS. 0. SCULL, eu Gen. ‘Manager. © Gen. Paws. Agt. CHESAPEAKE AND OHIO RAILWAY, Schedule in effect May 13, 1804. Trains leave daily from Union Station B. P.), 6th and B sts. ‘Through the grandest scenery tn America, the handsomest ‘and most complete solid trait serv ice Washington. 2 DAILY.—-"“Cincinnat! and St. Louis Speciat’—Sclid Vestibuled, newly Equi tric-lighted Steam-heated ‘Train. Pull sleeping cars Washington to Cincinnatl, Indiangj lis and St. Louis without change. Dining from Washington, Arrive Cinciunatl, 8:00 a.m.3 Indisnapolis, 11:43 a.m., and Chicago, 8:0 pang St. Louis, 6:55 p.m. = TM. DAILY.—The farious “F. PF. V. Lime A solid vestibuled train, with dinthg ‘car and Pulltnan sleepers for Cincinnati, Lexington and Loulsville, without change. Pullunan Sleeper to Virginia Tot. Springs, week days, arriving a.m. Observation ear from Hinion, Arrives Cine cinoatl, 5:50 p.m.: Leaington, 3:00 p.m ;" Louts- ville, 9:40 p.m.; Indianapolis, 41:15 p.w.; Chicayo, 7:20’ a.m., and St. Louis, 7:30 a.m.; connects in Union epot for_ali point 10:57 A.M., EXCEPT SUNDAY.—For Old Point Cant rt “and ‘Norfolk. Onty rail line. 2:25 P.M. DAILY.—Exptess for Gordonsvil Charlottesvtile, Waynestoro®, Staunton and princi Virginia points; “dally, except Sunday, for Miche mond. Puliman locations and tickets at company’s of- fices, 513 and 1421 Pennsylvani H.W. FU my25 General Passeng LADIES’ GOODS. MME. FEURS, FORMERLY, OF LONDON AND Roston, Is located at 725 13th st. nvv., and som Ucits the patronage of Washington ladics: dresses and with st from Pr. and sostuine wade in the latest style at re- duced rates. nol0-2w* ‘OUR CHILDREN CAN MAKE BEAUTIFUL yee tas oroaments with materials for dolla, pias, faney boxes, tree ornaments, mee.” Japanese goods, ‘book FINE BLACK AND WHITE LACES DONE UP IN first-class Parisian style; white and satin Gresses, laces lace -curtatne a 8 sepaclaltys Prices ‘reasonable. Call Mine. VIBOUD'S, suc Resor to Mme. Valwont, old stand, 713 11th st. p3-1m* 5 ——-see Badly Fitting Stockings. rom the New York Times, Seamless stockings are announced as a novelty in hosiery, The necessity that stockings should fit the foot comfortably, yet snugly, is not always appreciated as it should be. It is as harmful to wear a stocking too short as a shoe. On the other hand, a too loose stocking, which folds over, makes a painful footgear, and, it 1s asserted by some chiropodists, 1s one of the most fruitful causes of calloused spots. Mothers, too, often ignore the fact that stockings of different makes vary greatly in size, even in the same numbers. This applies to the instep measurements as Well as to the length of the foot. It is a good plan to carry an old stocking when buying a fresh supply for the children. A little comparison will save the youngsters much discomfort and sometimes a lasting defeat. BAUMENTS REDVED | AND ure iSSIES CUNNINGHAM, 1308 8th st. ow., near N st, LADIES’ SEALSKIN red nto latest 126-1208 1 st. n.w. French dyeing and cleaning of every cescription; evening and purty dresses made a specialty. Our patronage extends Inte az the most ‘usiionable chicles, = ms __UNDERTAKERS. _ _ W. R. Speare, Undertaker & Embalmer, 940 F Street Northwest. Everything strictly Grat-class and on the most reasonable terms. ‘Telephone call, 340. jal-te AUGUSTUS BU URNISHING UNDERTAKER AND EMBALMER, 1834 NEW YORK AVE N.W. Talenbona 208