Evening Star Newspaper, August 24, 1895, Page 18

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, AUGUST 24, 1895-TWENTY. PAGES, : MOUNT VERNON. TREES AND FLOWERS What the Old Garden at Mount Ver- non Contains. ANCIENT TREES WITH HISTORIES Geometrical Beds Bounded by Box Hedges. THE NELLY CUSTIS ROSE Written for The Evening Star. HE PRETTIEST I thing at Mt. Vernon, and the only thing there that has not been “restored,” is the flower garden. That is, it would be called pretty if one admires strictly geo- metric designs and curlycues, for that 1s what you will find in the old’ gar- dens, each individual one as “sot” as an exact eye and exacter measurement can take it, the broad center path separating the “twin” counterparts. Everybody knows and talks of Washing- ton the “general,” but there are compara- tively few who have given a thought to Washington the “gardener.” Washington was a lover of nature. Mayhap, had his footsteps led him out of war instead of into it, he might have been another Thor- eau, though it ts not likely that he would have been as self-complacent a student of nature, for he loved his kind, and Thoreau loved only himself. Of course, everybody knows that Wash- ington inherited Mt. Vernon from Law- rence Washington, his older brother, and mcst people have an idea that he got along with it that great, big house, and the quaint @ardens—the flower garden balanced by the jtchen garden on the other side of the wling green.” The house was only a “villa” when it came to Washington, and the gardens were nil. Hanging in the li- brary of the ‘“‘mansion” house are the plans for the gardens, drawn by Washington's own hand, with every tree and shrub in the grounds indicated by name, exactly as tkey stand now, and after he had supped his fill of honors he began to put into ex- ecution those plans for embellishing and beautifying his spacious grounds at Mt. Verncn. Geometrical Measurements. Washington must have “chained” the grounds off with the aid of a compass, and merked the “metes and bounds” with un- erring accuracy, for anything moro dis- tressingly regular than the arrangement could not be imagined. He had added two Jirgs to the villa, and then named it the “Mansion,” and he built two curved colon- -Bades—one on each side, joined, one to the kitchen on the south, and the other to its twin, the spinning house, on the north, and they are in turn balanced by buildings as like as two peas, and so on, down to the very garden walls on each side—kitchen garden on the south and flower garden on the north. The fidwer garden, as has been stated, stands just as it did on that lon, ago December day when Washington died. Frcem Old Walls. The walls of this garden are of brick, brought from England and put together with “oyster-shell” cement. They have been capped with a row of new brick, as a kkind of foundation for a wooden paling which has been put up, but that is all the change that has been made. The bricks look so awfully old that the Star writer Poked them with an umbrella to see if they Would crumble, much to the merriment of the colored servitor—not one of the body servants of Washington—who was watering the plants in the garden. “Lawd bress you, honey chile, dat ar fence gwine stan’ dere long arter you dun gon’ to dus’. "Deed hit ar’. Tee eet, Lreckon hit war de gineral his- Be! of * ”" was the prompt reply to the question “Who built it.” “He seem mighty fon’ of grubbin’ roun’,” went on the old fellow. “He set out dem trees by de gate, an’ de ole pear trees you dun jus’ pass, an’ all dis heah box.” Box Everywhere. Just at the entrance to the flower garden are four splendid great big trees, two ash and two tulip trees. Washington planted them with his own hands, and they grew thrifty and strong under his fostering care. They form a perfect square as they stand. Inside the brick wall is a row of box end a wide path all around the garden, and hext to that comes another row of the box, about four feet high and a yard across the top, cut as smooth as a piece of cheese and as square up and down as though evened with square and level. It was just so that Washington left it. Inside this green- Jeaved wall are the quaint geometric de- signs, which a great many people believe hold hidden meanings—a kind of Baconian cipher, perhaps, which has never yet yielded up its secret. Some say it tells Ma- #onic secrets, and others see in it initials. To The Star writer they looked as though the French “jardinier’’ whom Washington imported, contrary to the alien labor law, to do the fancy work in his gardens had undertaken to ‘grow’ flower pots. There @re squares and triangles, oblongs and odd Uttle circles of neatly shaved box, which look for all the world like small green painted wash tubs, in which nasturtiums and cannas, “old and cosmos and Quantities of other plants are struggling for life. All that box has been standing there for a century and a quarter nearly, and its roots have grown out and over the garden, till a few inches below the surface there is whole lumber yard of boxwood, which Saps the moisture and eats the nourishment from the soil till it is a wonder that the poor little flowers can grow at all. But they do, and they smile up at you just as the dear old-fashioned things smiled up at “Lady Washington,” and sweet Nelly Cus- tis, and Betty Lewis, and Rochambeau, L'Enfant, Hamilton, Jefferson and Lafay- ette. Then there is the “school room’’—the queer little tower room In the rounded cor- ner of the garden—where Tobias Lear, a remarkable young man who was private secretary to Washington, used to act as tutor to Nelly Custis and Lawrence Lewis. The Nelly Custis Rose. Oh, yes, and there is the Nelly Custis rose! White as the driven snow, raggedly double, with soft, velvety petals and per- fume as sweet as the memory of the dainty creature for whom the great Washington named it. The roses bloom today, even ag they bloomed in the long ago years, when men came to woo, and one won this fairest of all the rosebud garden of girls to wear in his heart of hearts. This rose has a wonderful spell, so the colored people will tell you; for they say, and give much proof to substantiate it, that it was under this rosebush that Lawrence Lewis told his The School House, Mt. Vernon. cousin Nelly Custis that he loved her, and by the same token sweet Nelly said yes; and only the rose knew the secret; but it never told it, and so was imparted to it the power to make loving hearts happy ever after. If you know that one you love is diffident, or over modest, all you have to do is to get him in smelling distance of this Nelly Custis rose, and he will pour out his love at your feet without reservation, or, if you can’t get him there, put some of it under his pillow to dream over. Off over under the shadow of the old pear tree that Washington planted grows another tall and rather stately rosebush, with fragrant blossoms of a sea-shell pink. This rose, which was a sport in his own farden, Washington nemed for his devoted old mother. It is such a lovely rose, end one can’t help wishing that Washington had gone a little further and planted one beside a monument of his own rearing above his old mother’s grave, on that lonely spot by the Rappahannock river. After Four Presidents. Just inside the entrance to the garden are four calyanthus or sweet shrub bushes, the roots of which were sert to Washing- ton by Thomas Jefferson. They were a great novelty in that day. When they Were cne hundred years old, John Augus- tine Washington named them after Adams, Jefferson, Madison and Monroe, the four Presidents who succeeded Washington, who was his uncle. They go by those names row. Down at the end of the walk next to the green houses are two immense oak- leafed hydrangea bushes, which Lafayette brought over in 1824 as a memento of liv- ing love for his “dear friend,” and which he craved permission to plant with his own hands in that friend’s garden. These came from the tomb of Napoleon, who said to his army in Egypt, when the news was brought to him of the death of the first President: “Washington, the friend of liberty, is dead!” The Servants’ Quarters. On the north side of the garden, instead of a wall, stands the low brick building once the servants’ quarters, with the en- trance from the other side. One awfully bitter night in December, 1835, these quar- ters, and the conservatory adjoining, burn- ed to the ground. These quarters were ful- ly_ restored by the contributions of the school children of Kansas in 1888, and they look now just as they did when careful Martha Washington used to stir things up out in the servants’ quarters a century ago. Of all the beautiful plants and flowers gathered from every clime and hundreds of rare ones presented to Washington, only three were saved from destruction by the flames—a lemon tree, which was full of fruit, a century plant and a sago palm. The lemon tree’s children grown sturdy and strong above its roots, and the century piant, brought from Porto Rico to Washing- ton by a friend in 1798, goes right on grow- ing stiff and defiant, never looking any older, because it always looked as old as it possibly could, and the sago palm has a thrifty growth of children about its hoary old body. It has a story, too. It came over in the ship that brought the tea into Bos- ton harbor which brewed such a drastic dose that it turned the stomach of the British lion. Old-Fashioned Flowers. There are so many pretty flowers in thi garden, sweet, old-fashioned flowers like touch-me-nots, sweet williams, four- o’clocks,phlox, East Indian lilies, asters, for- get-me-nots, wall flowers, sunflowers, and hollyhocks such as used to fill the quatnt old-fashioned vases on the marble mantels in the mansion, when “Lady Washington,” in her best bib and tucker, entertained the grandees of two continents. And over them, flitting about in the hot perfume-bur- cened air, were butterflies of brilliant hue and exquisite markings, sipping sweets from every blossom. By the tulip tree at the gateway stands a reck maple. Just across the “green” stands a magnolia grandifiora. Mt. Vernon marks the southern limit of the thrifty growth of the one and the northern limit of the propa- gation of the other. This magnolia is the last tree that Washington set out with his own hands, and it has to be kept wrapped with wire netting to keep sacrilegious van- dals from carrying it off piecemeal. ———- A Low-Cut Dress. From Life. , At a rendition of the “Messiah” (oratorio) a lady in an extremely low-cut dress ap- pears to sing the solos. A young lady turns to her escort and says: “Tere, Charley, what do you think of that costume?” Charley—‘Well, it is very charming, but I think it would be more appropriate for “The Creation’ than ‘The Messiah.’ ” —___+0+__. He Almost Fought. From Fliegende Blatter. “Mr. Meyer, did you ever fight a duel?” “No, but once I had my ears boxed.” = was at the head of it =tVwrite occastonal “Oh, yes, you must. I ate some of your A S A N E D | T 0 R articles for magazines now, and those I ANNIE AND THE SUNFISH cake and you must eat some worm. It RAILROADS. usually dictate. But I find that dictation is isn’t manners when you won't even try it.” BALTIMORE AND OHIO RAILROAD. apt to spoil style. It makes one too pro- : The little girl held back; but the sunfish Schedule In effect July 12, 1605. iix.’* v8 took her by the sleeve and led her along. | Leave. Washington from. stat ‘corner of New. eg 2 eS qSee-Fight there.” He pointed with his] por cuicapo aad Nethwent, Vertinuied Limited Secretary Morton Relates an Early NAMES OF 0 XINGS, fin. “There are two nice ones, tough and | trains, 11:30. Experience in Newspaper Work. FIRS? PAPER WEST OF THE MISSOURI Bleeding Kansas Absorbed All the Public Attention. COMMUNAL HEREDITY (Copyrighted by George Grantham Bain.) ASKED SECRE- tary of Agriculture J. Sterling Morton, a few days ago, to tell me something of his early experience in journalism—for he be- gan life as the editor of a country weekly. Unlike most editors of country weeklies, however, he started his paper and ran it; not in the interest of journalism or for revenue only, but for the more satisfactory purpose of increasing the value of property in which he was interested. Mr. Morton was sitting at his desk in the Secretary’s office in the building of the De- partment of Agriculture. The evidences of agriculture did not surround him to any ap- preciable extent. There was a vase of fresh cut flowers on-his desk. There is al- ways one on the desk of the Secretary of Agriculture. The flowers come from the department conservatory, and it has been the custom to decorate the Secretary’s desk with them since the conservatory was built. Behind Mr. Morton, hanging above the mantel, was a three-quarter length oil painting of his predecessor, Secretary Rusk, life-size, and looking very natural. On the scuth wall of the room was a modestly- framed picture cf the Secretary’s home in Nebraska. Ranged along the mantel were a few calendars issued by firms interested in agricultural specialties. But any one who expects to find prize pumpkins decorat- ing the corners of the Secretary's office, or hayseed in the Secretary’s hair, will be grievously disappointed. Mr. Morton’s en- vironment is not in the slightest degree agricultural. West of the Missouri. “The first newspaper work I did was for the Chicago Times,” said Mr. Morton, and while he talked his right hand moved cease- lessly, signing long, blue documents. “I was in the university then. The first of my work that attracted attention was a series of articles against the know-nothings— against secret societies. When I was twen- ty-two years old I issued the first newspa- per ever printed on the other side of the Missouri river. There had been a paper with an Omaha date line issued July 4, 1854; but it was printed in Council Bluffs. ‘The first issue of the Nebraska City News was the first paper printed west of the Mis- souri. It was issued April 12, 1855. “With a sworn circulation of- “Oh, we had a population of only a hun- dred people. But the paper was not issued to make money. Its object was to attract attention to the town and help us to sell town lots. The town company paid for getting it out, and paid me a salary for running it. It was circulated chiefly out- side the town. I was a member of the town company, and as I had had some experience writing for newspapers—for the Chicago Times and the Detroit Free Press —I was chosen editor at a salary of $50 a month. My pay included also a certain in- terest in the sale of town property. The original contract {s on file with our His- torical Society. We had quite an estab- lshment. There was a foreman, a ‘jour.’ printer and a devil. Those Buckskin Trousers. “I have kept up my acquaintance with the devil—that particular devil—to this day. I hear from him every little while. He is living in California. ‘Johnnie’ Freeman he was in those days. He was sixteen years of age, and his one ambition in life was to own a pair of buckskin trousers—you know the kind, with fringe down the side, such as cowboys wear. Well, ‘Johnnie’ achieved his ambition and became the owner of the buckskin trousers; but the first time he ‘rolled’ he got them all smeared with ink. That troubled him. He knew that buck- skin had a habit of shrinking when wet. He knew that if he took off those trousers and cleaned them there were chances that he would not be able to get into them a egain. “So he determined to keep them on and wash them. He went at it, and got off a great part of the ink. But when those trousers dried they shrank so that they rearly killed h..a. They fitted him tighter than his skin. He stood it as long as he could and then he begged some one to cut them off. That was the end of the buck- skin trousers. Not long after a freighter came along and offered ‘Johnnie’ $50 a month and found to drive bulls across the prairie. He left us and went out to Cali- fornia. There he made some money pros- pecting, I believe, and became rich growing wheat. He lives in Woodland now. He sent me a picture of the town not long ago and one of the finest houses in the place is the home of Mr. John Freeman. I have never seen him since he started across the prairie punching bulls. “We had a hard time attracting, atten- tion to our town,” said the Secretary. “You see, we labored under the disadvantage of being just above Kansas. We were a quiet, unassuming people who had come west be- cause we wanted to make our homes there and open up the country. Kansas was set- tled by a lot of Blue Lodge people from the south, who had come there to make a slave state, and a lot of people from Massachu- setts, who had come out with rifles and Bibles to establish a God-fearing abolition state. Kansas began suffering and bleed- ing and kicking up a great row before Ne- braska had a chance to attract any one’s attention. Still Bleeding Kansas. “And do you know,” said the Secretary, “the experience of Kansas has made me a believer in communal heredity. Kansas has always been the same sort of state, and all the parties there seem to be tarred with the same stick. As I said, Kansas absorbed public notice, and, as a result, we couldn’t get anyone to look at us for a time. We circulated our paper through the east, but it never got us a notice from an eastern journal. Finally I made up my mind to do something to make people talk about us. I sent to St. Louis and got some of the old cuts used in the slave states to advertise for lost slaves—you remember them—the figure of the negro with a stick over his shoulder. Then I got some glass figures of negroes and had some of our people run away with them, and I adver- tised them in the Nebraska City News as run away negroes. The New York Tri- bune saw it and turned loose on us im- mediately. Up to that time Nebraska had not been thought of as a point of con- troversy in the slave question. The Tri- bune started us, though, and after that we got plenty of notices from the eastern pa- rs. “Of course, I wrote the entire paper in those days. And I want to tell you that I think the country paper of that day was a great deal better in every respect than the country paper of today. There was a column of good agricultural notes and a column of religious matter, and the paper was full of original stuff. In these days of patent insides, the country paper is made in the city. It does not furnish the wholesome reading that we used to find in the paper of forty years ago, and it does not give the training to the man who edits it. In the old days a man had to work if he was the editor of a country weekly. And I think, too, that the average of the literature which went into the farmer’s home in those days was better than that of today. I mean the terial literature. The farmer’s reading ow is chiefly a Wild Bill literature whose Tentencies are far from good, “T ran the Nebraska City News for some years. I turned it over to several people at different times, and had to take it back again. Finally I got rid of it en- tirely, and I have done no newspaper work since, except some occasional writing for the Chicago Times, when Wilbur F. Story Family Designations— of European Royalties Incorregtly Used. From the Philadelphia Press, Not one person out of’ thousand, if he hed a fair day’s start @ng the privilege of rummaging among encyclopedias,could tracq out the real fanily names of the rulers of Europe. As a matter 19, fact, these are very complicated, and ‘to know them is quite an effort of the niemiory. In the case of royalty the family name has been, in most cases, taken from the name of the castle in which the founder of. the race lived. Mistakes are very frequently made through ignorance, and these mistakes are so frequently quoted they become accepted as facts. The English royal family are known, for example, as Guelphs, the Rus- sian royal family as Romanoffs and the Portuguese kingly houece as Braganzas. All of these, it now seems, are wrong. Le Figaro of Paris has gone into this sub- ject quite extensiveiy, and the facts that it has brought together are well worth set- ting down. Queen - Victoria, according to this authority, was originally Miss Azon, or Miss Azon von Este. She was descended, as were the other members of the house of Brunswick-Luneburg and Hanover, from Azon, Margrave of Este. The Prince of Wales, the son of Prince Albert of Saxe- Ceburg, has naturally his father’s family name. He is spoken of more correctly than any of the other royal personages of Eu- rope. Descended from the Wettins, which line was founded in the twelfth century, bes actual name is Mr. Albert Edward Wet- tin. likewise the King of Portugal, strictly speaking, has the same family name. He was a grandson of another Prince of Co- burg, who married the then Queen of For- tugal, and thereby became ruler of that country. Ferdinand of Bulgaria comes from exactly the same stock and is Ferdinand Wettin. A cousin of his, and of the same family name, is the present monarch of Belgium, Leopold I, a prince of Saxe-Co- burg having ascended the Belgium throne in 1831. Hohenzollern is not the family name of the German line that is now upon the throne. Their true name is Zollern, Thas- silon, the first Count of Zollern, having founded the race about 800. In the year 1800 the Zollern family had two male de- scendants, the Count of Zollern and the Burgrave of Nuremburg. Frim the latter comes the present royal house of the Ger- man empire. So William II is William Zol- lern. The King of Roumania is another representativ> of this line, and has pre- cisely the same name. ‘The Capets are: The Duke of Orleans, the son of the.old Count of Paris, Don Carlos and Alfonso XIII, the infant King of Spain. Their progenitor was Hugues Capet, the original Count of Paris, who ascended the throne of France in 987. Francis Joseph, Emperor of Austria-Fun- gary, the Queen Regent of Spain and Fred- erick, Grand Duke of Baden, are Ethichons. The original Ethtchon was a Duke of Al sace, who lived about the year 614. Hum- bert, King of Italy, is Mr. Savola, and Os- car II of Sweden, Bernadotta. The original of this name was a French general, who was made King of Sweden in 1818, and was called Charles XIV. Pope Leo XIII’s real name is Joachim Pecci. Alexander I of Servia has the name of Obrenowitch, and Nicholas I, Prince of Montinegro, is Mr. Niegoch. Rt ——- se AS A BUILDING MATERIAL. Some of the Uses Which Can Be Made of Cork, % From Ice and Refrigerater. One of the lightest! substances ts cork, which is also the worst ¢dnductor of heat and sound; it will not absorb water when mcderately compressed. Possessing such valuable properties, cork should find a wider rage of utility than’ stoppers for vessels containing liquids which dp not attack or- ganic substances. Cork ig the bark of an cak tree which grows.on the coasts of northern Africa and southern Europe. After being deprived ‘of {fs hard, non-elas- tie and useless elements,the bark 1s cut into square pieces and turned in the lathe to any desired form. The waste cork, or turnings, is considerably ‘more than 20 per cent of the whole, so that the problem is the utilization of this waste. Thousands of bricks and tiles have been made in France of pulverized cork, and proved entirely sat- isfactory. Two kinds of strengthening cements, which can be molded into any shape, have been in use. The first contains powder or small pieces of cork, plaster of Paris, dex- trine and sesquioxide of iron. The second contains, in addition, oxchloride of zinc, which makes the composition practically water-proof. Like cork, these cements are non-conductors of heat and sound; they carbonize without giving any flame when exposed to a high temperature, do not de- cay and absorb very little water. ‘Bricks made from the cement began only to crack under a pressure of 190 pounds per square inch, so that they should prove a valuable building material. Among the applications the cement could be used to keep cold or heat in a room, pibe or other receptacle. A cork concrete loor completely deadens sound, as in a library or for partitions between offices. Where troublesome vibration occurs, as near running machinery, cork composition may be used with advantage. As to elas- ticity, the walls of a powder factory were constructed of the material, later an ex- plosion occurred, the cork partitions (after greatly slackening the vibrations), tumbled to pieces, reducing the damage and loss of life to a minimum. As to lightness, as in high building construction, cork brick is superior to porous brick, having a specific gravity of only .38, against .70 of brick. As a water-proof material it is adapted to cellars, basements, bath rooms, etc. Cork brick is nearly fire-proof, giving off smoke, but no flame. Bloomer Accidents Will Happen. From the Daily Eastern Argus. Natives of and visitors to Long Island had something to talk about Sunday. It was rapidly approaching the hour of dusk, when one young man called out to some companions on the piazza: “Say, get cnto his nibs on the bike. He'll get a header coasting down that hill like that.” On came the rider, and, descending the hill, there was a distinctly feminine shriek as a body shot over the handle bars of the bike. This, of course, aroused the chivalrous nature of the boys, who nat- urally ran to the scene of the wreck. “Whet’s the matter, young feller?” asked cne of the boys, soothingly. “Feller, nothing,” the rider replied. She remained sitting on the grass, for it was in reality a “she,” and the boys beat a hasty retreat. There was great excitement, and a crowd gathered, among them being several ladies. There were tears in the fair bloom- erite’s eyes as she flashed a message with them toward the group of three ladies that had gathered at the..scene,of the mishap. It must have been tental 'telegraphy, for the ladies apparently understood, for they felt in their bodices for, something that looked like pins. The masculine spegtatorg, politely turned their backs and walked agvay, while the ladies surrounded the young rider, who had not arisen fromthe grass. There was a short convention amongthe ladies, and in a few moments a somewhat disarranged pair of bloomers were seen disappearing Over the hill toward the feast End, Mockeds\Modesty. From Truth. Solicitous Aunt—“Mary, I do wish you wouldn't play tennis, it 1s such a dangerous game; didn’t you hear that Nellie Smith fell and broke her limb?” Mary Dear—“Which limb?” “Why, her left limb.” “arm or leg?’ (Then the kind old lady blushed violently.) A Bedtime Story to Be Told Pending the Arrival of the Sand Man. (Copyright, 1895.) One time there was a little girl, and her name was Annie. She wore a pink dress and a big, wide hat to keep the sun off her face. One day her papa didn’t go down town, and ehe asked him if he would take her fishing, because he told her once that she could go with him some of these days. “Isn’t it some of these days now?’ she asked him, and he said yes, it was, and if her mamma said she could go, why, he would take her. So her mamma said that if she would be @ good little girl and wouldn’t let her papa get lost or fall in the water she could go, and the little girl jumped up and down and said: “Oh, goody! Goody!” and ran out in the back yard, where her papa was digging under some big boards and was putting some big, fat fishworms into an empty baking powder can. They squirmed and wriggled, but they couldn't get away, and when he caught enough he covered them up with dirt so they wouldn’t feel bashful, the little girl said. Then he took down a box from a shelf in the closet, and it had in it a whole lot of string and hooks and lead weights and things I'ke that, and he got two poles, a big one for him and a lit- tle one for Aunie, and then they were all ready to go except the lunch. The little girl’s mamma got that ready and put into a nice basket cake and pie, and sandwiches and pickles, and hard- boiled eggs, and I don’t know what all. So they got on the trolley car and rode away out past where the cars live and sleep in the night time, and they got to where the trolley man said: “All out! Far as we go,” and then they walked a long way through a pasture, where there was a cow, and the cow looked at the little girl and said, ““M-moo-o0-oo-a!” but the little girl held on tight to her father’s hand, and I guess the cow was afraid to hook her. “If she come running at me,” the little girl said, “I'd ‘a’ sticked her right in the eye with my fishing pole, and she would holler, ‘Ouch!’ Wouldn't she, papa?” They went along, and went along, till pretty soon they came to the fishing place. The little girl’s papa fixed the worms on the hooks, and Annie turned her head be- cause she couldn’t bear to look at the poor worms, all quirning, as if it hurt them to be stuck on the hooks. Then they sat. right still, for the fishes don’t like noisy people to come around where they are. Annie sat so long that she began to think fishing wasn’t nearly as much fun as some other games, such as “P’tend we was keep- in’ house, and I was the mamma,” when there was a little twitch on the end of her line, as if somebody was picking at it. “Papa, somebody ts trying to get my line away from me.” “Well, don’t you let him. That’s a fish. Pull quick!” She pulled, and the fish pulled, and her papa helped her, and pretty soon she saw something shining down in the water, and she hallooed out: “Oh, papa! I’ve caught a spoon!” It did look like a spoon; but spoons don’t wiggle around in the water ard try to run this way and that. In a minute the fish was out on the ground, all kicking arouad and getting himself tangled up in the line. He flopped right against An- nie’s bare foot, and she squealed: “Don’t let him bit2 m2! Don’t let him bite me!” Her papa got hold of him and took him off the hcok, and the little girl could see how the hook had stuck into the roof of his mouth, and she felt real sorry for the Poor fish, because it must have hurt him. Then her papa strung him on a line, and let him swim around in the water. “He'll get away, won't he, papa?” the little girl asked when she saw him switch- ing his tail and scooting eround. “No. Don’t you see, I’ve got him hitched just like grandpa ties his horse when he comes to s2e us?” “ee sir. Just uzzackly,” said the little rl. They caught some more fish, and then they washed their hands, and had their lunch; and, what do you think? The little girl's “mamma had forgotten to put in a cup to drink out of. “Never mind,” Annie’s papa told her, “I know where cups grow on bushes.” “Is there a tin cup tree?” Her papa laughed and went to find a spring. It was a barrel stuck down into the ground with just its top sticking up, and It was full of nice, cold water, so cold that it would make the roof of your mouth ache if you took a big, long drink. Then her papa picked up a large leaf and rolled it up just like one of those cornucopia things that grow on a Christmas tree full of candy. He pinched up the bottom of it and dipped it into the spring, and the little girl thought the water tasted so good out of a leaf cup that she took a whole lot of drinks. Then they went to fishing again, but something kept coming in front of the little girl's eyes and she kept brushing it away, and pretty soon she found herself slipping, slipping right down into the cooi, green water. The iittle girl wondered why her papa didn’t come along too, and then she wondered if her clothes wouldn't get all wet, and then she thought it was funny the water didn’t bubble in her ears and make that nasty noise it did when she lay down in the bath tub. She floated along under the water and the fishes swam up to her and said: “Why, hello! This is a little girl. What's your name, little girl?” “Annie.” “What did she say her name was?” asked a big, bright sunfish, and held up @ fin to his ear. “She said her name was Annie.” “Annie? Annie? I don’t think I ever heard that nome before. Sure it isn’t Kil- lie or Porgie or Minnie? I've heard them. I think they’re real nice, don’t you?” “Minnie Is a nice name, but I don’t think Killie would be pretty for little girls.” “Well, Annie, what did you come down here for?” Annie opened her mouth to say, and then she wondered: “What did I come down for?” “Hay? Speak up. I can’t hear you. Take that thing out of your mouth and aybe you can speak plainer.” “I haven’t anything in my mouth.” ell, whatever it is, take it out.” ‘I can’t. It’s fast. Besides, if I took it out I couldn't talk at all.” “Oh, well, then, let it stay. What did you come down here for?” “Oh, for a visit.” “A visit? I don’t believe we've got one. Here Bass, you look round and see if you can't find a visit for the little girl.” “No, I came down to make a visit.” “What do you make it out of? Mud or grass or what?” “I mean I came down to pay you a visit.” “Well then hand it over.” “Don’t you understand? I came down to stay awhile and ask if you were pretty I see. Why, we're pretty well, thank you. Won’t you have a worm?” “No, thank you. I-don’t like them, I never ate any.” “If you never ate any, you don’t know whether they are good or not.” “They don’t look nice, anyhow. I'd like cake better.” “Cake? What's cake?” fish. I believe asxed the sun- “Anything good to eat?” said Annie. “Won’t you try some?’ She thought she had eaten up every bit her mamma had put in the lunch, but she looked in her hand and there was a great big_piece. “Why, yes,” said the sunfish. “I’m not like some people who are afraid to try things. It doesn’t look very nice, do you think? I’ve seen mud that was just that color.” The sunfish winked at the others as he said this. Annie didn’t think it was very nice of him to act that way, but she held up the cake for the sunfish to bite. He took a nibble ard then tasted; then he bit off some more and tasted that. “Who made this?” he asked. “My mamma.” “Well, you tell your mamma she didn’t get it pink enough.” “Not pink enough?” “Not near. And she wants to make it more stringy. It all breaks into little pieces. She must make it so that when you bite on a piece all you've got to do is to keep on swallowing and the rest of it comes right along. You can teil her the taste of it is all right, though.” “Give me some,” said the bass. some. “Ah! Cooked to death!” “Now you try some worm,” said the sun- He tried “I don’t believe I care for any.” Stringy—yum, yum. You take this and I'll take the other. Company first.” 'm afraid,” said the little girl. "Oh, haw!” said the sunfish. “They won't bite. Go ahead.” “There's hooks in ’em,” said the little “Hooks! How do you know?” screamed the sunfish, and made his eyes stick out. “Cause just before I came down here my papa put them in.” The sunfish looked at her as cross as anything. “So it was you did that, was it?” Then he hallcoed out: “Fishes! Oh, — This little girl has been putting ooks into things to catch us!” “I did not,” said Annie. “My papa did that. All I did was to pull out the fishes when they got caught on the hook. I—I— didn’t think it was going to hurt them.” “You didn’t think it would hurt us, eh? How would ycu like to have a hook stuck in_your mouth?” The other fishes swam up and began to ask: ‘What’ the matter? What’s sh been doing?’ and when the sunfish tol them they all said: “Aw! Ain’t she awful? Mercy!” “I don’t care!” said the little girl, ‘you eat grasshoppers and worms and things, and I think that’s just every bit as bad as catching fish. Don’t you s’pose it hurts them?” “That’s a different thing,” said the sun- fish. “I wasn’t talking Taig = worms and grasshoppers, What I’m king about now is catching you and putting you on a hook, so it will stick into that red thing that flops around when you talk. Come on, fishes!"’ They all made @ rush for her and the lit~ tle girl ran as fast as she could, but they got hold of her and just as she was cryin; out: “Oh, quit that! Quee-yut!” she foun: herself on the bank beside her father, and he said: “Well, you've haa a nice long nap.” That night when her mamma put Annie to bed, she said sleepily: “Mamma, the sunfish said you must make your cake more pink and stringy.” Then her mamma sai ‘Why, what is the child talking about?” But Annie was too sleepy to tell her and you ought to be in bed with your eyes shut your own self. —_.__ A Ghost Story. nd From the London Literary World. J. Henniker Heaton tells an interesting sequel to the most famous Australian ghost story, which came to his knowledge as one of the proprietors of the leading New South Wales weekly, “The Town and Country Journal.” One of the most famous murder cases in Australia was discovered by the ghost of the murdered man sitting on the rail of a dam (Australian for horse pond), into which his body had been thrown. Numberless people saw it, and the crime was duly brought home. Years after a dying man making his con- fession said that he invented the ghost. He witnessed the crime, but was threatened with death if he divulged it, as he wished to, and the only way he saw out of the impasse was to affect to see the ghost where the body would be found. As soon as he started the story, such is the power of nervousness that numerous other peo- ple began to see it, until its fame reached such dimensions that a search was made, and the body found, and the murderers brought to justice. ———+e+______ The English Labor Market. From the Ashton Reporter. A memorandum prepared by the labor department of the board of trade for June states that on the whole there has been improvement during the month in the state of the labor market, and that the percent- age of the unemployed in the unions mak- ing returns has declined. In the 86 trade unions 5.6 ied cent of men are reported as unemployed at the end of June, as com- pared with 6 per cent in May and %3 per cent in the 52 unions making returns for jure, 1894. The building trades continue busy. The percentage of unemployed in unions making returns remains the same as in May, viz., 2.5, compared with 3.5, June, 1894. In the cotton trade employment for inners shows no improvement, but weavers are somewhat better employed than in May. The woolen trade is brisk, overtime in some cases being worked; the worsted trade is also well employed. The hosiery trade has continued to improve; the silk trade is fairly well employed. In- formation received with regard to 284 tex- tile mills, employing nearly 66,000 women end girls, shows that 87 per cent were in mills giving full employment, as compared with 84 per cent in May. ——_+«-+____ Threadbare Genius Rewarded. From the Chicago Dally Tribune. A moldy looking wayfarer knocked at the back door of a humble dwelling in the suburbs the other morning and inquired of the woman who answered the knock: “Do you want your piano tuned today, ma’am?” “Land sakes!" she replied. any piano.” “Perhaps the frescoing in your parlor needs touching up a little,” he suggested. “There ain't any frescoing in the par- lor.” A look of deep melancholy settled on the face of the tourist. “I am very sorry,” he said. “By doing this kind of work for our best people I make my living. I was hoping I might be able by the exercise of one of my callings in your tasty cottage to earn my break- fast—" “Lord love you, come right in!” cordially exclaimed the woman, opening the door wide. “You're a greasy fraud, and I know it, but you’ve got talent, and I admire tal- ent wherever I meet it. How’ll you have your eggs—hard or soft boiled?” Death of the Crowing Hen. From Lippincott’s Magazire. At a very recent date, in many parts of our country, it was a sign of bad luck for a hen to crow. Just why, is difficult to trace; perhaps, because it was considered the assumption by a female of masculine prerogatives. Whenever a hen dared at- tempt it, she was run down by the united efforts of all the children on the premises, and her head paid the forfeit. A recent traveler in Kentucky writes that while visiting at the country home of a friend a hen was heard to crow. Instantly the cry was raised, “Catch her! Kill her!” He interposed in the hen’s behalf by re- minding his hosts that this was an “age of rights,” and she was, therefore, not guilty of any wrongdoing. They scoffed at his heterodoxy, and the clamor that fol- lowed prepared him for the return of the or bearing the head of the foolish ‘owl. “We haven't ———_+e+______ A Vicious Criticism. From the Chicago Record. “Miss De Puyser has a magnificent new piano next door.” “Listen—isn’t she playing on it now?” “Yes, that Is she.” “Well,” after a pause, “I should think she'd be able to get worse music out of a cheaper instrument.” ———+o+___ Game in the West. From Harper’s Bazar. “What game have you today?” he asked as he entered the western cafe. “Dice and poker,” said the waiter. ———+o+___ The_Changed Situation, From Fliegende Blatter. Mcney or his life! “Kind sir, I beg of you a small pittance.” | CAMPBELL CARR! m., 8:20 p.m. For Cincinnati,’ St. Louis and Louisville, balea Limited, 3:45 p.ni ; express, 12:01 ‘or or r XPress, em ai aes Cleveland, e: ‘or Lexington and Staunton, 11: Kor Wincloster ana way stations, 9 30, ‘or Luray, Natural Bridge, re, Chattanooga, Memphis aud Sew Orleans, 1 Vesti- night. daily 11:30 p-m. oxville, 220 pane ¥F ee i515) 480 pn For Hagerstown, *11:30 a For Boyd and way points, thersburg m., *12:50, *3:00, ‘11 m. 99:30 a. at principal stations only, °4: ‘or Bay Ridge, 9:15 p.m., Sundays. R 4: Hoan ie ae YoRK AND HILADELP' PI All trains illuminated with light, Philadel, New - For el ew York, and Be darcy Ce Baie OS Dining 200 DI B. tr oe ee ee 80, 5:80 p.m. : a:0t night’ £"55:00 0 E at 16:00 o'c1 Brodape fi-86 Dining Car), a.m. Dining Car), 3x pining: LEH 8: leeping Car fet ‘Parlor Cars day trains. Atlantic s8 week days, 4:55, 7:00, 10:00 and 11:30 a.m., 12:30 p.m, Sundays, 4:55 a.m, 12:30 p.m. and residences by Union Transfer Co. on orders left at Hlcket offices, G19 Pemeyivania erence, wortive New York venue and Fifteenth street, and @ epot CHAS. 0. SCULL, Gen. Pass. Agt, m » camrGt 2.2%RE,o Pm A PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD. Station corner of Gth and B streets, June 895. 10:80 AM. PESNSYLVANIA “LIMITED, —Pu 1 mam Peeping, ay and Observation Cass larrisburg, icngo, Cincinnati, napolla, St. Louis, Cleveland snd Toledo. ' Buffet Car to Harrisburg. 10:80 A.M. FAST LINE.—Pollman Buffet Parlor Car to Harrisburg. Parlor and Dining Cars, Har- richucg to Pittsburg. 3:40 P.M. CHICAGO AND ST. LOUIS EXPRESS.— llman Buffet Parlor Car to Hai ing and Dining Cai Cincinnati, Toulsvitle ‘and ‘Gh 30 P.M. IN EXP! woe Ca to Chi ad Harrisburg to Clevelanh r lev Dining Car to Ch ~ 7:10 P.M. 801 Pullman Sleepi id Gare to St, Louis, and Sl ing anc rs to St. % Sleep- ing Car Harrisburg to Cinciunatt, 10:40 P.M. -PACIFIC EXPRESS.—Pullman Sleeping Car to Pittsburg. 7:50 A.M. for Kane, Canandaigua, Rochester, and Niagara Falls daily, except Sui 10:30 A.M. for Elmira and Renovo, daily, except Sunday. ‘For Williamsport daily, 8:0 P.At. 7:10 P.M. for Williamsport, Rochester, Buffalo, and Niagara Falls daily, except Saturday, with Si ioe Car Washington 1 Bompeusion Bridge <4 a 10:40 P.M. for Erle, Canandaigua, Rochester, Buf- falo, and Niagara Falls dafly, Sleeping Car Wash- on to Elmira, ‘or Philadelphia, New York and the East. 4:00 P.M. “CONGRESSIONAL LIMITED," all Par. Jor Cars with Dining Car from Balt! New York daily, for Philadel Regular at 7:05 (Dining Car), 7:20, (Dining Gar), and 11:00 (Dining Cary A 3:18, 4:20, 6:40, 10:00, and 11:25, P.M. in te) AM 2S, 215, L For Philadelpbia onl 50 AM. week-days. Express 7: For Boston withou 50 A.M. week-da: ‘or ton wit! it change, 7:! so] we and 3:15 P.M. daily. v For Baltimore, 6:25, 7:05, 7:20, 7:50, 9:00, 10:00, 10:30, 11:00, and 11:50 A.M., 13:16, 2:01, 3:15, 40 (4:00 Limited), 4 36, 5:40, 6: 6:40, 0: 1 ind 11:35. On 06, 7:20," 9:00, 9:05, 10:30, 11 M., }, 2:01, 8:15, 3:40 (4:00 Limited), 4 5:40 05, 6:40, 7:10, 10:00, 10:40, and’ 11: For "8 Creek Line, 7:20 A.M. and 4:36 P.M, daily, except Sunday. For Annapolis, 7:20, 9:00 A.M., 12:15 and 4:20 P.M. daily, except Sunday. Sundays, 9:00 AM. and 4:20 P.M. Atlantic Coast Line. Ex for Richmond, Jack- sonville and ‘Tampa, 4:30 A.M, 8:90 P.M. daily, Richmond and Atlanta, 8:40 P.M. datiy. Ri mond only, 10:57 A.M. week-daya, Accommodation for Quantico, 7:45 A.M. daily, and 4:25 P.M. week-days. For Alexandria, 4:30, 11:50 A.M., 12:50, SEASHORE CONNECTIONS. For Atlantic City, 9:00 Gaturdays, only), 10:00, ai-08 AM. week-da; 15 and 11:35 P.M. daily. For Cape 5 (Saturdays only), 12:15 P.M. week-days, a1 35 P.M. daily. Ticket offices, northeast corner of 13th street and Pennsylvania avenue, and at the station, 6th and B streets, where orders can be left for the check- baggage ing of to destination from hotels and res idences. 8. M. PI J. R. WOOD, General Manager. General Passenger SOUTHERN RATLWAY. (Piedmont Air Line.) Schedule in effect July 28, 1895, All trains arrive and leave at Pennsylvania Possenger Station. 8:00 A.M.—Daily—Local for Danville. Connects af BManusans for Strasburg, daily, except Sunday, and at Lynchburg with the ‘Norfolk and Western dally, and “with C. & 0, dally for Natural Bridge and 11:15 A.M.—Dally—The UNITED STATES FAST arries Pullman Buffet New Yorke #24, Washington to Jacksonville, uniting at Char jotte with Pullman Sleeper for Augusta; also Pull- man Sleeper New York to Montgomery,’ wit [- nection for New Orleans; eonnects at Atlanta with Pullman Sleeper for Birmingham, Memphis and Louis. 4:01 P.M.—Local for Strasburg, daily, except Sun+ 2S for Charlottesville. —Dally—WASHINGTON AND SOUTH. ULED composed of ied Sleepers and Dining Cars, Pulle man Sleepers Washington to hatin, via Salis- bury, Asheville and Knoxville. New York to Mom- phis via Kirmingham, New York to New Orleans Atlanta and Montgomery, and New York to Ta via rlotte, Columbia and Jacksonville. Vestibuled ay ich Washington to Atlanta. Parlor Co jumbia to Augusta. Dining Car from Gre to Mentgomery. TRAINS BI HILL leave Washington 9:01 P.M. and 4:39 P.M. daily, = Sunday, P.M. Sundays only, for Round Hil, daily, except Sunday, for Leesburg; for Herndon. Returning, arrive at A.M. and 7:00 P.M. daily, and 2:25 P.M. from Round Hill, 8-34 cept Sur from i except Sunday, from Herndon only. Through trains from tho south arrive at Washinge fon G:42 AM, 2:20 PM. and 8:0 P.M. datiy, M Division, 9:45 A.M. datly, except Sunday, nd S740 A.ME. datiy from Charlottesville, ets, Car reservation and information EEN WASHINGTON AND ROUND A.M." daily, 1% ana 638 cept’ Sunday ices, 511 and 1300 Pennsylvania aves Tennsylvania Rallroad Passenger Stas W. H, GREEN, General Superintendent. EE ie ey ‘Passenger Agent. A General og aS L. 8 Brown, Gen. Agt. Pass. Dept. CHESAPEAKE AND OHIO RAILWAY, Schedule in effect July 1, 1895, Trains leave dafly from Union Station (B. and nd B sts. P), 6th ¥ Tnrough the grandest scenery in America, with the handsomest and, most complete solid train sert= ¥ mn. 3.5°P an an fe “Cincinnatt and St, Louis Solid Vestiimled, Newly Equipped, Elec~ Brea ea Mtenerheatcd’ ‘Trains Puliasgers, Anest sleeping cars Washington to Louisville, Cincinnatl, Indianapolis_and St. Louis without change. Dit Car from Washington. Arrive Cincinnatl 8: a.m.; Indianapolis, 11:30 a.m., and Chicago, 5:30 St. Louis, 6:45 p.m.; Lexington, 8:35 a.m.; i. > w. my20 11:10 FM: DAILY.—The famous WF-F-V. Iam: ited.*? A ‘solid vestibul rain, ining car and ‘Pullman Sleepers for Cincinnati, Lexington and Pullman Sleeper Wash- without lis, 11:05 p.m.; Chicago, :30 30" am. and. St Cavis, 1:90 a.m; connects in ot al 1S. TORT FM, EXCEPT. SUNDAY.—For Old Polat Only rail line. ind ‘Norfolk. CoS BM. DAILY.—Esxpress for Gordonsville, Charlottesville, Waynesboro’, Staunton and aed pal Virginia points, daily; for Richmond, daily, exe oPlikuen"Tocations and tickets at company’s of fices, 513 and 1421 Pennsylvania avenue. General Passenger Agent. —= ATTORNEYS. INGTON, suiding, 508 D sk. Warhing« Webster Law building, st. D.w., ral fon, D.C. Residence, £00 L n.w. a3 = mht MEDICAL. NO FEE UNTIL CURED. Dr. Czarra, 602 F ST. N.W., Washington, D. C. Treats all chrouic, nervous and blood dis alcoholism. ani opium tubit, SPECIALTY ney and Bladder Trouble, Piles, Fistula, Stries ture, &c. Special diseases positively und pere manently cured; vitality restored. Cousultation tr Office hours: 9 to 12 e.m., 2 to 5:30 p.m., 6:30 to 8 p.m.; Sundays, 4 to 7 p.m. aul3-Im* AFTER ALL OTHERS FAIL CONSULT THE OLD rellable specialist, Dr. Brothers, 906 B st. $ 50 years’ experience in treatment of all of en consultation free and strictly contidenting eim®*