Evening Star Newspaper, January 9, 1921, Page 62

—4!'1 ES, it's great stuff having a real idle richer like Pinckney on your list of chummy friends. For one thing, when You see how hard he works to keep himself from being bored Wwith ex- istence, it makes you kind of thank- ful for a steady job; and then again, by knockin' around with him occa- sional, you meet such charmin’ peo- ple, like—say, take a deep breath now—like Mrs. G. Iselin Palmer. Uh-huh! Absolutely. Mrs. Jerry herself. Course, I ain’'t quite got to the point where I call her that to her face, even if Pinckney does. But we're workin® up to it. ~Oh, my, yes! Gradual, you know. She started in by callin’ me Prof. McCabe, real formal. Then it got to be dear pro- fessor, and next thing, I expect, it'll be dear Shorty, Old Thing. How’s that for edgin’ in among the smart_setters, eh? Some class to me, what?. Course, I can’t let it all to my fascinatin' personality. Some of her recent moves might be due to this new fad of her crowd for pa- ~onizin’ exhibitions of the manly art, th seats in ringside boxes sellin at fifty a throw, and holdin’ mem- berships in swell sportin’ clubs where they put on private bout And, al-l though I don't figure in any of (hp’ events now, 1 suppose she counts it something to know a real ex-champ., who once wore the lightweight belt wau et all comers. I did draw the line, though, when she wanted Pinckney to have me stage a snappy private go between [ Swifty Joe and me here in the studio, with just her and a few select friends as an audience. 1 “Sorry, Pinckney,” says I, “but you'll have to explain to your Mrs. Jerry that she's got me wrong. I don't perform any more, not even for the plutocracy. Tell you what I will do. You tow her down late some | affernoon and we'll have Swifty punch the bag for her. He makes quite a zippy act of it with a skirt on the side lines.” So we compromised on that and she seems to get more or less of a thrill out of it. specially when Swifty pulls his trick stuff, catchin’ the bag, on his elbows, shoulders and head| and makin® it rap out a jazzy tune against the wooden platform above. He goes at it real vicious, you know with that ugly jaw of his set and his muscles bunched. You'd think to watch him that he could hoist Demp- sey clean over the ropes with son® of them swings of his. Maybe he could, too, if Jack didn't come back with anything more harmful than a pound or 8o of leather-covered air. “Oh, do look at those ferocious blows!” gurgles Mrs. Jerry, grabbin me impetuous by the arm. ‘She's the grabby kind, Mrs. G. Iselin Palmer. I expect that's how she got Ollie Iselin as a starter, and old man Palmer in his turn. Let's see, there was one or two in between. but I forget just who they were. She and Ollie parted throygh the Reno route, I believe, and at least one other hubby was witched by a statu- tory decree. but old Marvin K. Pal- mer had the grace to make her a regular sod widow and left her bales of preferred stock and other income producers. Since which sad loss she’s been hittin® the high spots andi hornin’ into the ‘smartest circles. She looks the part, and dresses it ‘well, I'll say. One of these long- geared, loppy females that's strong on: eyes and complexion. They’ rel her own eyes, too. As for the rest of her get-up, I guess you'd have to| trail her while she has her sessions at what Pinckney $alls the salons de jeunesse to accouwnht for her .hlvln passed forty without showin' any wrinkles or ;flver threads among the ‘henna -ands. Anyway, she knows how to keep the males of her species danglin round, and she don't seem particular | about the type, i:whether they're limousine lizards like Pinckney, plain roughnecks such as me Swifty Joe. I expeét that was why she was so much home when she was doing that cahtéen work durin’| the war. That's how I happened to meet her first. out at one of the camps where I used to go twice a week to put new draft squads/through their first settin’ up stunts. She was servin’ as head matron at the rest house and havin’ the time of her life at it. I judge from her talk since that sh never forgiven the allies for closin’ up the war and that she’s still hoping anotNer one will be started soon. So 1it's ‘only natural that whenever we get together we ‘have to talk over them good old days ‘when we was helpin’ make the world mafe for—well, for the profiteers, it looks like now. S0 when Swifty has finished his act. and her and Pinckney are in- dulgin’ in a cigarette in the front office, I asks her if she's still keepin' track of any of her soldier boy rhave tried o sy My errY: )" But Mrs. Jerry wom't have it that way. He simply couldn’t, after all| “But it's so discouraging. Most of ! them are doing 'such commonplace. stupid things mow—clerking in stores. working in factories, or driv- ing delivery trucks. And o many are married and have forgotten. But there was one dear little chap—Oh, by the way. Pinckney. didn't I ask you to look up Suey Sam for me?" “That's Mrs. says “You didn’t remember.” protests Pinckney. “Forgot to report, that's all. Yes, 1| went down to those broker persons | who gave him a situation when I | asked them to, but they said he'd | been gone for months.” “Sam had resigped?” Jerry. “Well—er—in a wa hedges | Pinckney. “I believe they thought he wouldn’t be much of a success in | asks Mrs. | “YOU'RE GOIN’ TO that business, s they suggested that | know? he—er—make a change.” Didn’'t they know where he had | second lieutenants, and being sent to|big gone?’ she demands. Pinckney shakes his head.: “One of the firm rather thought.” says“he, “that your Suey Sam had gone back to_Chinatown.” “Oh, 1 _can’t believe it!" says Mrs. “Can you, Shorty? You re- . don’t you?" “I had him in my squad when he first landed at cymp. 0. t But you never can tell about n Chinks.” ut Sam was such an unusual little fellow,” goes on Mrs. Jerry. “Besidee, he wasr't all Chinese. ~His mother was white. an Trish girl, T believe he said. nd he was doing so splendidly after 1 Aot him into the GMcers’ Club as assist- ' goes on Mrs. Jerry, “I had him coniel the | Kind of 2 bright youngster, | “HIM? SAYS SPIDER. “NAH! DIDN'T I SAY HE WAS IN WITH A BUNCH OF FAST ONES. THEY DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING BUT or | ant steward. or | commission, too." I remembered all about that. SMALL TOWN BANKS.” Yes, He was studying for a T'd watched her make a pet of Suey Sam from the start and_had wondered how it would come out. We didn’t have many of his kind in camp, draft did catch a few. but the You see, Sam had been born right on Doyers street, gone to the Five Points public school on and off, and had even cast his first vote, 80 as far as the draft board could figure he was a regular citizen. He didn't look more'n half Chink, either. If it hadn’t been for wearin’ his cheek bones a little high, and the slight tilt to his eye-corners, and the glossy black hair you might not have lots of guessed. But even after khaki I could pick him out. though.- Used to knock ‘em, he got into I've seen around Chinatown a good deal myself in the old days when Mock Duck and his gang flourished there. And I never had any use for a Chink, either full or half blood. e Back.” It you ask me,” says I, “I'll, bet he's to some of my teas so that he tell me how he was gettin You've no idea how smart he looked a frock coat, which I ordered for him. I was so proud to show h to my friends and -whisper to what he had been when I first found 5 take such an His ambition was to get into a bank, I believe, and if him. He seemed interest in finance. to those horrid _brokers had: charged him I think it could have been arranged. Perhaps he ha it, all by himself. Anyway. I’ he couldn’t have gone back to that dreadful Chinatown.” I only shrugs my shoulders. “Then I'll bet you a hundred says Mrs. Jerry. Pinckney. So it was either look like a or take her up. “But I say,’ scout around, couldn’t we?” gests. ‘Of course.” says Mrs. Jerry. “There you are, Shorty!" chimes in Tou're on,” says I. comes in Pinckney, “how are you going to find out?” “You and I could go down and 1 sug- i ‘could & on. im off them dis- done sure even,” piker M | had ever seen that part of New York | before in _thelr lives, By Sewell Ford ing to risk i So within five minutes the three of us are stowed away cozy in the limousine and are being whirled down 3d avenue. I doubt if either of ‘em And when we got to Chatham Square I' told” the chauffeur to turn into Mott street and park in front of one of ‘them big Chinese stores. “Let's see,” says I, “maybe I'd bet- ter ask first in Mou Lay Wong's. That's my old chop suey joint, and there ought to be somebody there that remembers me. You know, there's nothing very terrifyin’ about, Mott street at 5 p.m It's just a wide, busy street and fair- ly clean. Course, at night, with the josshouse and the tourist restau- rants all lighted up, and the natives loafin’ around thicker on the side- walks, it does look a little strange, enough so to get the folks from Bangor and Terre Haute and Grand Raplds gawpin’. When we turned into Pell street, though, I noticed that Mrs. Jerry trotted pretty close to my elbow and that Pinckney edged in on the other side. For Pell is different. It's nar- row and dirty and all Chinese. Also "This she’d done for him in the uplift line.|afternoon. Oh, 1 do wish I could go, ‘Why, case, had been to the school in- structors so they’ would help him along. and all that. well. And he was doing so He could name all the Presidents; at least. a lot more than Mrs. Jerry ever had heard of: and he was even learning to play bridge. Besides, she still believed a lot of | you'd be as safe in Mott street as inilhe cashier's desk acted he'd made a special study of his | too. “Why not?” says I. “But_ would—would she asks. “That is, or police protection At which I has to it be n. without gu:des safe?” 1 vitin', that long, dark flight of stairs up to Mon Lay Wong's ain’t ’specially in- squeals Mrs. Jerry. I go up there?" ust ys 1. “You and Pinckney can wait here while I 2 “We'll go,” says Mrs. Jerry prompt. But up in the restaurant I finds an “Say, that's ' entire new set of Chinks in charge. what the rubber-neck bus conductors | Not even one of the old waiters was feed the hicks on,” says I “Why, | and the slit-eyed party behind ke he'd left, that dope they used to feed us about|5th avenue, and if there's any hole {never heard of Charlie Hen, who used how much good army trainir’ had done | or corner of Chinatown I don't know v | the sons of the common people. You How all thisvdrillin’ and kitchen | police_work, and associatin’ with noble | i France, or al Imost sent there, had changed millions of young roughnecks their ears reg’ stated lar. Only the way she it there was more about lofty ideals and spiritual reincarnations and 50 on. “Think Suey deep as that, do you?’ sayé “He showed Sam let it sink in as L more progress than any of my Wwys,” insists Mrs. Jerry. “Why, some of che nurses told me that he had learned to Jazz and was havin’ his nails manicured.” “My word sh_cigarette. “And after says Pinckney, lightin® a he left the service, i it must have been bu It recen 1 , | you're game to go, I'll take yor ‘Pickney,” nt. 1 0. says Mrs. Jerry, them es of hers flashin’ and her long | ear danglers jigglin’ with excitement, I'm going to do it. 1 want to prove 'to McCabe that he's wrong abou Sam. my car. Oh, T say! ‘Do you think you Why, only last week I rea murder ‘occurring_down there. a messy one, t00."” “First in seven years’ '® “How: about your own blocky ney? Ain't you had a couple o into high stepin’ young heroes whe fectly thrilli R 0| a perfee rillin ce. loved their country and washed behind | aides, 1. v s ot Be- Prof. t Suey Come on, we'll drive down in {“We'll have a look over on Doyers to be one of the proprietors, five years ago. “No Cha’lie Hen,” says he. “You e Chinese suppe—nice chow main, chicken mushloom suey, moon cakes, 1i chee nuts?” “No, thanks,” says I “We're lookin’ for a half-blood by the name of—let's see, what was it he called himself before he changed to Sam Young? Oh, Lee Yung Fat, that was| ? Know him, do you?" - The Chirk stares at me stupid and s head. “What you want Lee Fat?” he asks. “Then you do know him, eh?" says he, grouchy. “No know whispers Mrs. Jerry. Le doesn’t. - And please,” can't > 207 “Might as well, I expect,” says I. street. There's a poolroom. there :where all the young sports hang out.” that place ut—but shooting took where the ghsps Pinck- es. I know.” says I “It ain’t a continuous performance, though. I can park you in the doorway of the mission house, nearby. Here we are. This is what they used to call Bloody Angle, you know.” “Oh!” says Mrs. Jerry, clutchin’ me by the arm. “I—I'm sure it looks it. And I know Suey Sam would never turn to such a place as this.” “Maybe not,” says I “T'll have a peek upstairs, anyway. Here! You'll be safe in this doorway usmtil I come down.” Its a good deal like any third class poolroom that you might find on Sth avenue, or down on West that maybe it smells different, from the rice cake bakery underneath, and that on the walls you can see posted the bulletins of the Hip Sing tong, which is a secret society so secret that I expect no white man ever knew just what it was for or why. 7 And I must say the late models of young Chinatown hicks don’t look so tough; nothing like the ones that used to slouch around there when Chuck Conners and Bat McGlory was in their prime. Say, you didn’t have to look twice at Bat, in that dirty white sweater belted inside his pants, and with them broad shoulders and the old scar down his jaw, to know that he was a hard-boiled one. But these wasp-wasted, putty-faced shrimps didn’t look equal to landin’ a knockout on a sick ribbon clerk. I didn’t know one of 'em by sight. Just as I was turnin’ to go, though 1.saw somebody slouched down in a corner chair and thought he looked familiar. As luck would have it he's Spider Quinn, one of Swifty Joe's old side kicks. Course, he remembered me. protests - Pinckney. ought, Mrs. Jerry?” d of a Such ays T Pinck- f hold- ups there recent, and wasn't the El- well shootin’ puiled off net fa you?" : o “Pooh!” says Mrs. Jerry, v from “I'a go- “What the word, Shorty?” says be, unlimberin’ his long legs. “Looking for Lee Yung Fal I, “or Sam Young, as he calls him- self since he was turned loose from the A. E. F. Seen him around here lately” Spider squints up at me cautious and then at the nearest bunch of pool shooters: “What you got on Lee Fat?" he asks quiet. . P street, or up in the Bronx, except! THE. SUNDAY STAR, JANUARY 9, 1921—PART ° THE RAMBLER WRITES OF GEORGE MASON, AND GUNSTON HALL ALONG THE POTOMAC FORGE MASON, of whom the Rambler has been writing | as ome of the prominent characters of prerevolution- ary days and of the period of the formation of the Constitution, lived at Gunston Hall, on Mason neck, and his home, which was one of the fine houses of Virginia when it was built, is perhaps more beautiful today than it was a century and a half ago. It| has had its years of hardship, but they have been few and have been followed by years of prosperity. The Rambler can remember when the hall was not blithe and gay, and he can remember when the gardens were | weedy and the walls and roof looked a wee bit shabby. but he cannot re- member when the hall verged on ruin. It has been spared the hard luck and evil days that have come to so many of the proud old homes of Virginia. It has been “restored” in the proper and apprgpriate sense of that term and is one of the splen- did country Seats in the Washington | region. The Potomac end of Mason neck is Hallowing point, and on the north side of the “neck” is a bay that is about two miles long and_one mile wide, called Gunston cove. The house stands on land something more than 100 feet above the tides and about half a mile back from the shore line of the “cove.” It commands a broad prospect morth and east, looking out across miles of water and including in the view thousands of acres of fleld and wood on each side of the river. * ok ok K The hall is a landmark which in clear weather must be visible from Fort Washington, eight miles away. River travelers “pick up” Gunston Hall, \after leaving Mount Vernon or 'Marshall Hall. It is nine- teen miles from Washington by the water route, but no steamboat stops there now. Successve wharves have stood on Mason neck and several Gunston wharves have served trav: elers and dwellers on the ‘“neck. But_ steamboats and wharves have become few on the Potomac. Lying beside the Rambler is a sheet of notes { copied from a table of distances from Washington to river points and that table must have been drawn up in the early 70s, probably in 1872 The old place-names may recall some- thing to your memory and the table of distances will give you a short lesson in mearby geography. So here the table follow: Greenleafs Polnt, th Glesboro Point, a mile and a quarter; dria steamboat wharf, five miles; Jo light, five and three-quater miles; Hell Hole, seyen and a half miles: opposite road creek, eight and three-quarter miles: Red House, nine nnd a quarter miles; Hattons Point, ten and three-quarter miles; Fort Washington. eleven and a_guarter miles; Mockley Point and Sher- ot & thing Spider,” says L “Just want to locate him on account of a lady friend of his, a real classy dame who made a kind of pet of him while he was in camp. She got him a job ! down in Wall street, but he's disap- peared_and my guess was that he'd be back in Chinatown. In fact, I've; &ot a hundred berries on it “Eh?” says Spider, prickin’ up them lop ears of his. “You're goin’ to earn ten of that,” 1 goes on, “if you can tell me Where he is at this minute,” ‘And you—you ain’t got anq head- quarters’ flatties in tow, Shorty?” he femands. “Nothing but a couple of upper- crusters shiverin’ down at thel mis- sion doorway,” . “Come onm, Spider, open u the sawbuck, all ready.” 1 wouldn't like to guess what Spider wouldn't sell me for a ten spot. But at that he makes me lean over While he whispers it husky. “Know that Dago bank jpst around the corner on Mulberry?’ says he. “Look along there in one of them tourin’ cars lined up at the curb. But no word about who sent you. Un- derstand?” get you, Spider,” says 1. “And don’t hurry to spend that with your bootlegger until I've found my man.” It was just as Spider Quinn had said. though. Along toward the low- er end of Mulberry street there Were at least five big tourin’ cars, most of ‘em full of gay-dressed young sports, some in fur-lined coats and one Who even showed a pair of tan spats where he had his heels cocked up on the dash. And in the third car, leanin’ back luxurious in the rear seat, we spots Suey Sam. “Guess I win, don’t 1?” I remarks| to Mrs. Jerry. “Right!” says she, fishin’ in her gold purse and handin’ over a gold- backed century plant like a regular feller. “But I want to find out what he's doing here. Perhaps he is in the banking business, after all. See how nicely he’s dressed.” he_does look prosperous,” I| “Suppose I ask him what line he's in?” But, say, the sudden’ appearance of two old friends don't have any effect at all on Suey Sam. He don’t pay any attention to my hail, not even when I walk right up in front of him and repeat it. “Ah, come out of the trance, Sam,’ says I, slappin’ him on the shoulder. “Here's Mrs. Palmer come down to look you u But Suey Sam stares straight ahead and dop't answer a word. Then I notice the peculiar look in his eyes, which mainly comes from cookin’ the little pill. You know? The drug act ain’t banished all the pipes from Chinatown. Forty of 'em couldn't. “Why, whatever is the matter with Mrs. Jerry. “He—he not hooch,” says I. we'd better get Spider Quinn to ex- plain. Ought to catch him wanderin® down Mott about now. And we did. He was just slouchin’ out of Doyers street tunnel When we got back, and I held him up by the sleeve. “Found our man, all right, Spider.” says 1. “But we couldn’t get much out of him. What should you say! was the trouble with him? “With Lee Fat?' says Spider. can't you tell? He's a hop head. ‘A—a what?” asks Mrs. Jerry. Opium flend,” says I “But, say,| Spider, why the swell get up, and the big tourin car? What's his game, anyway?” = Spider waits until a couple of; Chinks has brushed by. and then whispers hastily behind his hand: “Gentlemen vegg. Operates out of town with a bunch of fast ones. All them cars you saw are full of ‘em. They hang out there right along. They'll be rollin’ out soon after dark, over into Jersey, or maybe up into Connecticut.” y “Got their nerve with ‘em, ain't} they?” says 1. “And police head- quarters not four blocks oft.” “The bulls!” says Spider. “Ah, they know all about it. Get their bit. they do.” “What's Lee Fat's specialty?” says 1. “Country post offices-" “Him!” says Spider. Didn't I say he was in_ with a bunch of fast ones? They dom’t touch any- thing but small town bank : “Well, well!” says L “So the lad is ambitious. You see, Mrs. Palmer, { he meant what he said. He'l] get into another bank before mornin’, if he's | lucky.” On the way back she seems to do a lot of thinkin’, judgin’ by the silence and the way she was bitin' her “Ah, i THE R same: Little thirteen fourteen and a quarter mi Ferry points, fifteen miles: oppo- site Dog (Dogue) creek, fifteen and a half White House, sixteen and a half; Whitestone Point, seventcen and a quarte opposite Gunston” cove, eighteen: Hallowing and Chapmans points and Pamunkey creek. twenty: Craney island, twenty and a quarter; Marshall and Glymont, twenty-os site ~Sycamore. Head, ‘twenty-three and a_hal opposite Occoquan Freestone, Deep Point und Neapsco (Neabsco) creek. Powells _creek wamsic_creek, tliirty-two and _three-quarter: opposite Sandy ~ Point, thirts-four: Clifton Point, thirty-six; Liverpool Point and Mallows creek, thirty-six: Douglas Point, thirty-seven and & quarter: Smithw Polnt, thirty-nine and a quarter; Aquia creek railroad wharf.. forty- one and a quarter: Lower Thomas Poiut, fort two; Marlboro Point, forty-three Potomac creek, fo land Point, fa nine; Benny Grays Poin Nanfemoy creek, fty-two; Choptank creek, ffty-twoand a haif: light vessel off Cedar Point, fifty-three; Mathias Point, fiftyfive: Wind Point and "Port Tobacco river, 8fty Tobacco landing ( two; Popes creek landing, Bt : Ludlows Ferry, “wixty: Persimmon Point, Bfty-nine; Light Vessel off Lower Cedar Point, sixty-one and a half; opposite Upper Machodoc creek, sixty-three:'Swann Point, sixty-six and three. quarters; King George Point, Bluff Point and Roziers ‘creek, White Point (now Colonial Beach), sixty-seven: Church Point and Mattox creek, weventy-one: Popes creek, sev- nety-three; Great Wicomico bay, seventy-five Blakistone Island. seventy: Heron Island and Currioman bay. eighty-one: St. Clements ba. eighty-six: Huggins Point, eighty-thre Leonardtown (Bretons bay), eighty-eigh Machodoc river, eighty-five; 'Ragged Point, eighty-seven; Tower Hill, eighty-eight; Pines Point, ninety-one and a’ half; mouth of St. Marys river, ninety-nine; West St. Marys, 105: head of St Marys river, 108: Point Lookont light, 108; ‘mouth of Yeocomico river, ninet nine: Coan river, 103; Smith Point, Chesa- peake bay, and Little' Wicomico river. 116; ith Point lighthouse, 1 Hew-many wharves have been at the “Hallowing Point end of Mason Neck,-or on the north side jutting out into Pohick bay, Accotink bay and Gunston Cove, or on the south side jutting out into Occoquan bay the Rambler does not know. No man can recall them all. There must have been'a dozen or a score since Steam- bcats began running on our river. at least 108 years ago. No record is kept of “wharves and they come and go. It was fifteen years ago that the Rambler walked along the shore of Hallowing Point and at that time two rotting wharves were there. ‘They were about a mile apart and the “upper one had not been long abandoned. Whether the picturesque old:piles still hold their heads above water the Rambler does not know. Along the Potomac, between Wash- ington and the bay, and in those broad estuaries called creeks, but which might properly be called rivers, ruined wharves are 8o numerous that it would be difficult to gather up their names. In addition to these ruined wharves whose gray and rot- ting timbers—generally only the tops of ‘the piles—show above water at low tide, there are very many other abandoned landing places steamboats do not stop. At scores of places. perhaps at hundreds of places, where wharves stood mnot even an old pile remains. * ok ok % The first of the great Virginia fam- ily of Mason was George Mason, the great-grandfather of George Mason, the. builder of Gunston Hall, and who has often been called the “Sage of Gunston.” George Mason the first was a commander of a troop of horse at the battle of Worcester, where he fought for the house of Stuart: Aft- er_the royalist defeat he escaped to Virginia and settled at Accokeek. On® of ‘his fellow royalist-refugees was Gerard Fowke, a son of Roger Fowke of Brewood Hall and Gunston in Staf- fordshire. It is related by Kate Row- land Mason, in her “Life of George Mason,” that the original Gunston Hall in Staffordshire was standing and in an excellent state of upkeep when it was visited by James M. Ma- son in 1865, and it is quite possible that it stands today. At the time named it was owned by the Gifford family, which in the period of the wars of the commonwealth owned Boscobel, a house near Gunston. and in Which _Charles (I found shelter ealment after t Worcentar: he battle of mention of George Mason, founde; the Virginia family, that occurs Inrll?: Virginia records is in a patent to land obtained by him in March, 1655. The patent was fof 900 acres in West- moreland county, and was in consid- eration of Mason having transported or paid for the transportation of eighteen settlers to the - colony. George Mason served in the Indian campaign of 1675, in which also served John Washington, the immigrant and great-grandfather of George Wash- ington. It is a certainty ,that these early settlers, both royalist refugeel, were acquainted in Virginia. This George Mason died about 1686, and before the civil war his will was among the records of Stafford county, but it is believed that it was de- stroyed, with many other records, when the courthouse was burned in 1862. George Mason had a son, also named George. He became a Potomac ranger, and in 1692 was sheriff of Stafford county. In 169: he sold the old home at Accokeed to Robert Wright. It camg into possession of Nathaniel Hedgeman in 1707, and re- mained in the Hedgeman family for a century and-a half. That land below Mount Vernon and above Gunston Hall which a good many Washingtonians know as Bel- voir and which is now occupied as Camp Humphreys, was a grant to bought 2,100 acres of that land from Sherwood in 1696, and it is believed upper lip. But at last she remarks: T am so disappointed. Professor. You see, I had such faith in the theory that environment had so “Maybe it does, too, when it gets u‘: against mixed blood, specially the kind that Suey Sam has, this environment thing goes to the “Oh, 1 i breaks in Pinckney. iomething rather clever. 1 don't quite follow you. though. “No, “you inckney,’ says I n't.” - Syl « right, 1921, by Sewell Ford.) says I, “but| much to do with forming character.” | i that he lived on the tract. About 1732 it became the home of William Fair- fax; cousin and Virginia agent of Thomas Lord Fairfax. The Fairfax ouse stood on the bluff above the white house, which was one of the Fairfax plantation buildings, until about the time of the outbreak of the American revolution, when it was burned. -The ruins of thatshouse and af various brick outbuildings were Visible in the woods of Belvoir up to the-time of the establishment of Camp Humphreys, and no doubt are visible ow, 3 ‘T‘l Rambler ,explored those lands [ where ! Miss Rowland wrote that the first | William Sherwood. George Mason, 2d, | IVER FRONT OF and wrote the story of the ruins and graves of Belvoir in 1905. The second Seorge Mason also hought from Sher-’ wood two hundred acres of land near ittle Hunting creek, which at a iater time became a part of the Mount Vernon plantation. It is re- corded that Mason, in 1704, bought a tract of land on Occoquan creek and in the limits of that purchase. In partnership with James Hereford, Mason bought 2,224 acres of land in 1714 and the records seem to show | that the o1d village of Accotink stands on this land. * * k * If the Rambler is reading his notes clearly, it was George Mason, a son of the immigrant, who married Mary Fowke of Charles county, Md. She was a daughter of Gerard Fowke, the second, a son of Gerard Fowke, the immigrant. Mary died and Col. Ma- son then married Elizabeth Waugh, daughter of the Rev. John Waugh. It is said that Col. Mason married again, but those who have traced the Mason genealogy seem not to have learned the name of Col Mason's third wife. {There were children by these mar- | riages and these children married into the Fitzhugh, Dinwiddie, Bronaugh |mnd Mercer families. Ome son of |George Mason, the second, and Mary Fowke was George Mason, third. He was married in 1721 to Anne Thomp- son, daughter of Stevens Thompson, attorney general of Virginia. ! This third George Mason had some- {what of a public career. He was 2 justice of the peace in Stafford county and became sheriff of that county. He was one of the party which, ip 1716, | accompanied Alexander Spo!szwd on [ his trip of exploration across the Blue Ridge, a trip which resulted in the | institution by Spotswood of the order {of the Golden Horseshoe. Mason be- jcame commander-in-chief of the mili- | tia of Stafford county and was a mem- jber of the house of burgesses. { He removed in 1727 to a farm on | Chickamuxon creek, Maryland, op- | posite Quantico, and in 1 was i drowned by the capsizing of a sail- boat while crossing the Potomac. Be- | fore removing to Maryland he had jlived in a house which stood on the i south side of Occoquan creek, near the |landing_of the Colchester-Occoquan ferry. That ferry was called Mason's ferry, but as George Mason, 3d, was drowned in 1735, he could not haye owned this ferry unless it were a “private” ferry, which, perhaps, was the case. The first reference to a public ferry over Occoquan creek is {in a statute of 1736, Mason's ferry continued in opera- tion until the building of a wooden toll bridge, which was called Mason’s ibridge. and the bridge itself gave the name “Woodbridge” to a town and station at that point on the Washington and Fredericksburg rail- road. The ferry and toll bridge were just downstream from the present railroad bridge, and the station name of “Woodbridge” has recently been changed to Occoquan. The first toll bridge was authorized by the Virginia legislature January 2. 1798. and the act recites that “it shall be lawful for { Thomas Mason and his heirs and as- signs to demand and receive the fol- | lowing tolls and rates of passagé for any person or thing over his bridge across Qccoquan river, opposite to the town of ‘Colchester.” and then follows the rates of toll that might be law- fully charged. You noted above that the Rambler said that Gborge Mason had been drowned by the capsizing of a sailboat | while crossing the river, and that he {had removed to a farm on Chicka- jmuxen creek. opposite Quantico. “He was probably operating a ferry at the time of his death, for the second pub- c ferry over the Potomac river which the Rambler has found in the Virginia {1732 to “cross from a point just below the mouth of Quantico creek over the river to the landine place at Col. George Mason’s in Marvland.” The width of the river there is a mile and a half. The Rambler has written that he was ! ‘probablv operating a ferry at the time of his death.” T will take that back. Tt does not seem probable that a man owning as much pronertv and presumablv as well-to-do as Col. Mason was actuallv sailing the ferrv boat. He no doubt owfred the ferry hoat. the ferrv landings and the franchise for conducting the ferrv. and was crossing with the actual ferryman when the tragedy occurred. * * * * said that this George Mason, the third. “patented a tract of land onnosite Georgetown. on which the town of Rosslyn stands. and also ohtained a patent from Tord Raltimore to Analostan Teland.” That island_apnears in the old records as Necostin Island. Barbadoes. My Lord's Tsland and Mason’s Island. Georze AMason became the owner of the island amd it nassed to his descend- ants. but the Rambler will nat set it Aown on his own resnonsihility that Mason was the patentee of this island. becanse he has not seen the original grant. Jt is the hahit of manv writers to set forth that an early purchaser was the “original pat- entes” The Rambler has read and he thinks it was in Kate Mason Row- 1and’s excellent hook that “in 1738 a ferry was established helow Ana- lostan Tsland by Pater Awhrey, owne! of the land on the Virginia shore and that “in 1748 Mason bousht this ferrv and ran it from his land ahove Analostan Island te the Marviand shore.” where Georgetown now stands. If Georze Mason, 3d; was drowned n 1735 he could nat have hought this ferry in 1748. 1f it was bought in that year it mnst have been by his son. who was George Mason, 4th. of Gunston Hall. Awhrey may have overated » ferry Delow Analostan {Island in_ 1738. but the Rambler has not found a reference to it in Hen- ing’s_statutes. The: Rambler finds the first refersnce in the Virginia statutes to a ferrv near where the Aauedurt” bridge stands. in an act nassed in 1748 It authorizes the es- tablishment of ‘a vublic ferrv “from the plantation of George Mason. op- posite to Rock creek, over to Mary- lan e Of courra. men onerated ferries be- fore the Virginia legislature under- took to authorize and regulate them. Tt ‘was nrobal(l -because of the high tolls of those private ferries that the Tt has been HALL TODAY. the village of Occoquan stands with-| {woman creek, in Maryland. statutes is one that was authorized. ing government of Virginia viclded to a Ihuhlm demand that ferries should he | operated as public utilities, and ther probably wa an earlier ferry near Analostan Island than that author- ized b the Virgin der the act of 1748, sible that a ferry act, which the Ram bler has not Seen. may have been passed by the Maryland legislature. George Mason, 4th, the age of | Gunston Hall,’ as born in 1 in the old Mason home which stood on the south side of Occoquan creck within a stone’s throw of the present railroad bridge. It was a frame house and all vestige of it has passed away j unless some stones scattered about its site are relics of its foundation and | chimneys. After the death of his tfather he and his mother. Ann Thomp- | son Mason, and no doubt other chil- j dren of the family, went to live at the Thompson home at Chappawamsic, and later George went to live with John Mercer, an uncle, to whom Mrs. Mason had leased the house on Oc- coquan creck. In 1750 he was mar- ried to Ann Ibeck, daughter of Col. ‘William Eilbeck, who lived on Matta-_ Eilbeck came from Cumberland, England, and settled in Maryland, where he married a Miss Edgar of Charles county. The marriage of George Mason and Miss Eilbeck was celebrated by the Rev. John Moncure, retor of Overwharton parish in Virginia. George Mason, 4th, inherited several of the extensive land tracts owned by his father and one of these tracts included most of “Mason Neck.” that peninsula bound- ed by Occoquan bay, Accotink bay, Gunston cove and the Potomac. * K ¥ % It was in or mbout the year 177 that George Massn beggdn the build- ing of a fine brick house whicia he named Gunston Hal¥ In memory of the English home of his Fowke ancescors, and, by the way, when Gerari Fowke, the immigrant, ’ settled in « harles county, Md., he bhiilt a house which he called Gunstén Hall. The Ram- bler has o far not been able to locate ! the site of that hguse. which seems to {have disappeared long ago. George Mason is repregented in Virginla, Maryland and the District by many direct descendants, and his collateral i kindred are very mumerous. Gunston { Hall remained in possassion of the Mason family until the civil war. Perhaps you remember (though I know you do mot) that when the i Rambler wrote the story of Capt. Jim Wiley's recollections of Mason Neck | 1ast fall, the captain told of “Mrs. Ma- who was the last of the Mason family to live at the hall. And perti- nent to this the Rambler received last October the following letter from |a lady in Fredericksburg: My dear Mr. Ramblef T have been much interested of late in your letters 1n the Washington Star, particularly those about Gunston Hall and its neighborhood, as 1 am one of the mumerous Mason descend- ants, and my grandmother was born there. She was Elizabeth Barnes Hooe Mason, the oldest daughter of George Mason of Lexington, and she married Alexander Seymour Hooe of Det- tington, King George county. My great grand- mother and grandfather, Elizabeth Mary Anne Barnes Hooe ai George Mason of Lexington are buried at Gunston Hall, and 1 have re- cently visited their graves. I am getting to be very proud of being a direct descendant of eorge Mason of Gumston as his fame seems to increase as the years go by. Very recentl my husband and myself went to Gunston witl | Hon. R. Walton Moore and met a cordial re | ception from Mr. and Mrs. Hertle. It w: v | first_visit, yet it seemed so familiar the descriptions of my mother, who was Francex Seymour Hooe, apd who spent much of her childhood_and ‘girlhood there with her uncle. Richard Mason, and his wife. As far as I know they were the last Masons who owned Gunston Hall, and Aunt anor was a widow and lived there after Uncle Richard’s death. 1 have heard by mother and Aunt Ri rdetta, named after . say they had an only sen Richard who was lost at sea one stormy mnight and it was said by one of the servants of that time that the bell at Gunston Hall tolled for an hour in the dead of night. I wish I knew more about the traditions of the place. T four grown sons to whom 1 would like to them, but my dear mother died more than thirty years ago, and when We are Young we do not pay much attention to the things that interest us When we are older. Now, I am striving to remember all sl told me abont Gunston, but can recall principally a few ghost es in which even young people of these days do not believe. T had been to Pohick be fore, but not since its complete restoration, an enjoyed stopping there after leaving Gunston. All that country is ®o historic and you hav | done so much in bringing it before the pul in’ your delightful Runday letters. I would con- sider it a great favor If you would find out from Capt. Jim Wiley if the Mrs. Mason he remembers when he was a boy, coming along the road and taking hi up her carriage. | was the one I have referred to as my great |I|nrlo Richard’s wife, Aunt Eleanor. T have a great desire- to know mfore about the days of long ago. I bope if you ever visit our historic town you will be sure to look us up. In July. 1918, the following letter came to The Evening Star: 1 notice a short historical sketch of Mason and Gunston Hall and it seemed peculiar 1! no one has given the genmealogy of Dr. Cars T. Grayson. His father, Dr. John Cooke Gray Ison, was a prominent physiclan in Washing- ton’ and Georgetown at the ontbreak of the civil war, when he went south, serving throughout the war in the medicai depart- ment. Johin Cooke, an Irish baropet, married Mary Thompson Mason, daughter of George Mason. She bore four children, one son and three danghters. Two of the ‘daughters never mar- One of them married Dr. Jobn Graysan of Culpeper county. They had two sons, John Cooke Grayson and Robert, John being the er of Dr. Cars T. Graysn. The son, George Mason Cooke. married Miss Eustace. ~ They lad _three children. tws daughters and one son. Virginia married John Grasty of Orange county. father of Mason C. Grasty of Washington; Maria married Dr. Joseph Norris of Charlottesville, Va., and the son, George Mason: Cooke, was k in the . Mexican wai The Rambler wants to tell of how Gunston Hall passed from the Masons to Col. Edward Daniels and then to Joseph Specht.of St. Louis. The Rambler believes it passed from the Specht heirs to Paul Kester, author, one of the Rambler’s old friends. Paul Wilstack, another ancient friend of the Rambler, bought a_farm nearby, which had been part of the Gunston tract, and he was probably attracted to that neck of the wgods because Paul Kester settléed there. Then, sev- eral years ago, Paul Kester sold the property to Louis Hertle, and Mr. and. Mrs. Hertle: have wrought ich changes at the hall that the Rambler knows that .George n’'s shade, strolling among the box lanes and the flowey beds, looks at the old house and s: “This is Gunston Hall as I, bullt it for. miy :bride. sweet Amm Thompson, 165 years ago.” » -