Evening Star Newspaper, February 26, 1928, Page 80

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, BY JOHN CLAGETT PROCTOR. A estingly many times, and no doubt many readers have some knowledge, at least, of the general his-| tory. But not so as to the man who! owned the estate and erected the man- sion, who made it his home for more than half a century and who lived there until his death. Indeed, com: paratively little has been written of him. Perhaps 1,500 feet to the southwest of Arlington House as it stands tod: overlooking the Washington which w & villag> when the mansion was erected, and in a beautiful grove of tall oaks, two monuments. erected over the remains of the once proprietor of the cstate and his wife. The piot may asily be located, since it is inclosed | with an iron fence. and. as it so hap-| pens. these groves th: only ones| in th> cemetery protected in this way The markers are not pretentious ones. but they are typical of the simplicity ty of those who repose be- ' 1. when Lving and surround- | ost every luxury. Upon' iptions on these monu- find that they are p'aced ory of George Wash- and his wife, who arricge, Mary Lee o . prior to her m hugh. 2 it would be well for the writer to give a brief outline of the ancestry of the man a generation or two back rany may have forgotten cons who adopted him whea scarcely six months old. snd he was named-—George Washing- wife of the first ed twice. Her first was Col. Daniel Parke Custis 4 married her when she and petite m n of sweet 17. artha Dandridze. had been the belle at Will ominent place in de so through the meeting there { the roval governors of the colony when they held their court. RLINGTON House and Arlington Cemetery have been written of most entertainingly and inter- of Arlington [life estate given her, and thus the | Mount Vernon estate and other valuable {property became Washington's in fee | simple sometime before he married Mar- It was to his FEBRUARY 26, 1928—PART 7. George Washington Parke Custis, Who Built Mansion and Lived There More Than resept New National Theater. One of is plays was called “Pocahontas; or, the First Settlers of Virginia,” and was played on Saturday evening, Pebruary ., 1836. A referenc lls us it was House Striking Figure in Virginia History |and esteemed ‘citizens. © Of him the National Intelligencer said: “Death of Mr. Custis. “It becomes our painful duty to an- nounce the decease of the venerable !tha Dandridge Custis. |own plantation overlooking the broad and picturcsque Potomag that he took his bride and his two foster children, and there he peacefully resided until called to take command of the Army in | Its fight for American freedom, the Army which he so successfully led that we today are permitted to enjoy. as Lincoln would say., “a country of the people for the people, and by the people.” Of Mrs. Washingion's two children, Martha Parke Custis died of consump- tion June 19, 1773, at the tender age of 17. The general had grown pus- sionately fond of Mrs. Washington's son and daughter, and his great grief can be judged by a ietter written by him the following day t> Mr. Bassett, hi band of Mrs. Washington's sister. It sent from Mount Vernon and is as follows: m;:Dznr Sir: It is an easier matter to of this Family: especially that of the unhappy Parent of our Dear Patsy ccive than to describe the distress | Half Century. Met All the Great Men of the American Revolution and Was in Contact With Builders of Republic. rage could b: It was designed after | the Temple of Theseus, at Athens, with | walls of brick, stuccoed, the bricks used having been made on what is now the Fort Myer properiy. The tall, massive {two lovers decided upon getting mar- . yried, surely the best of arguments go | in one ear and out of the other. And {s0 it was in this case—John willed it |50 and Eleanor willed it so, and since ithe age of the lovers was the only | serious objection offered by the parents of either of the parties most interested. | their arguments proved the stronger, and they were married on February 3. 1774, 1 Too absorbed in grief was Mrs. Wash- ington to attend the wedding, but she sent the bride her congratulations in these beautiful words: “My Dear Nelly: God took from Me a Daughter, when June Roses were blooming—He has now given ! distance are of a most perfect Greek type of archit~cturs. Prior {o the Civil War it was by many considered the finest specimen of a residence in the southern States, and today only the White House and Moun: Vernon can be said to be better known. EORGE * X % ¥ ;G WASHINGTON PARKE i CUSTIS, its founder and proprie~ tor, was for many years & part of the i | | | columns whica may be seen at a great | poq “handsomely mounted,” and that “new | George Washington Parke Custis, the and appropriate dresses, scenery and (last of the members of the family of properties” were provided. Washington. For this performance the Commis-| “Mr. Custis dled at Arlington, near sioner of Indian Affairs loaned a num-[lhl.! city, after a brief illness, on the ber of Indian dresses, and a Ma). Hook | morning of the 10th instant, in the also loaned many similar articles from | seventy-seventh year of his age. For sev- his private collection. 1t is related that | cral years he had stood alone in his re- the play was well performed and that | lations to the Father of His Country. the applause was general and enthusi- | ever anxious, with nifal reverence and astic. At the end of the play the author affection, to illustrate his character, was loudly called for and expressed his |and from the rich stores of his never- grateful feelings to the audience. It,falling memory to bring forward an a run of “several nights.” {annual tribute to his immortal worth On April 12, following, another drama | Known and honored by his fellow by him was presented. It was given the | countrymen, his departure will awaken startling name: “Montgomerie: or, The | universally a profound regret. han of a Wreck.” The following| “Born amid the great events of the year appeared “The Eighth of January: | Revolution, by the death of his father or, Hurrah for the Boys of the West.” | (Col. Custis, of the Army, and a son of Washington Topham, in his story of | Mrs. Washington by a former marriage), the “First Railroad Into Wuhlnmn,"i'lhlch occurred near the ciose of the tells us that Mr. Custis even exund.!di"": he found his home during child- himself to write an operetta, giving it {hood and youtn at Mount Vernon, the name “The “Railroad.” The words | Where his manners were formed after to one of the songs began: th> noblest models; and from the great to that greatest of ail ! me another daughter, about her Age when Winter winds are blow- ing, to warm my Heart again. 1 am as Happy as One so Afflicted and so Blest can be. Pray receive my Benediction and a_wish that you may long live the Lovm!owlu of my happy Son, and a ving daughter of “Your affectior “M. { Custis, when I inform you that vesier- | dav removed the Sweet Innocent Girl | (who) Entered into a more happy & peaceful abode than any she had met | jwith in the afflicted Path she hitherto | has trod. | “She rose from Dinner about tour | | o'clock in better health and spirits than | she appcared to have been in for some ! me: soon after which she was seized | | R a word. 3 groan, or scarce a | This | blow, T nate Mother, ‘WASHINGTON." Seldom are grief and pleasure asso- ciated as they were in the lives of Gen. and Mrs. Washington, and in no part of their lives was this more true than toward the close of the American Revo- lution. when just as the most glorious victory .f that conflict was being realized, and fast approaching peace coud be scen, Mrs. Washington's oniy remaining child. John Parke Custis passed away. November 5. 1781. when onlv 27 years of age. To them this was, indeed, a calamity. The young man had been happily mar- | With one of her usual Fits, & expired lin it. in less than two minutes without utterin, sigh. sudden, and unexpected | carce need add, has almost re- duced my poor Wife to the lowest ebb f Misery, which is increased by the n whom I have just e in New York trom rao.d the 8th inst.) and want of the baimy consoiation of her Relations, which leads me more than ever to wish she could see them,.and that I was Master of Arguments pow- erful enough to prevail upon AMrs. Dandridge «Mrs. Washington's step- very life of the National Capital. Few men of note he did not know, and few | men did not know him. He was pop- !ular with the people of Washington, 'and threw his grounds open for their emusement and entertainment. There s still many & hoary head among us able to recall the picnics at Arlington | Spring. Even the oldest inhabitant would have extreme difficulty in finding today the old spring and grounds where our mothers and grandmothers probably danced the heel-and-tce, the mazurka and the minuet. And for some one now living to give a good description of it :vnuls almost b2 out of the question. so 1 am going to give you the benefit of Benson J. Lossing's description written 75 years ago. It follows: “At the foot of a wooded slope, near the bank of the river, is Arlington Spring, so well known o picnic parties “Of each wonderful plan E'er invented by man That which nearest perfection ap- proaches Is a road made of iron Which horses ne'er tire on, And traveled by steam in steam coaches.” . b e S a speaker and orator, Mr. Custis was probably at his best. At nearly every big event he addressed the audience, a privilege he seemed to take delight in. At the Independence day celebration at the Washington Monu- ment on July 4, the reporter is said to have noticed that Mr. Custis delivered his address in “his usual and affecting manner”; that he “touchingly and déli- cately referred to a box containing earth from the great monumental worthles of that period, frequent guests there, he received impressions of wis- dom and patriotism that were never effaced. Under thz counsels of Wash- ington he pursued his classical studies at Princeton, and when deprived by death of his great guide and father (and soon after of his revered grand- mother), he devoted himself to literary and agricultural pursuits on his ample | estate of Arlington, the gift, by will, of that illustrious man. He was early united in marriage to Miss Mary Lee Pitzhugh of Virginia, a lady of unsur- | passed excellences in all the relations of ,me. and whose irreparable loss, three | years ago, he continued with sorrow and |aflectionate admiration, to his final |day, profoundly to deplore. daughter, (Mrs. Lee, wife of Col. Robert Lee, of the Army) and several grand- children survive him. “Mr. Custis was distinguished by an original genius for eloquence, poetry and the fine arts: by a knowledge of history, particularly the history of th is, Martha had four chil- v_were: Frances, who died Daniel, who also died young. d John and Martha. | 1 Parke Custis died in the Spring | at the age of 30 years, and left, besides his widow, the two surviv- hildren. John Parke Custis and a Parke Custis. At the time of his e was possessed of an estate es- d at over $100.000. * ried ‘and showed every promise of a bright and honorable career. ' At the beginning of the Revolutionary War he | had promptly offered his services to his country and as an aide to Gen. Washington he served with distinction down to the surrender at Yorktown It was here. however, that he con- tracted camp fever. Before the actual surrender took place he was forced to leave his post and he was removed to, the home of his uncle, Col. Bassett, at | Eltham, situgted about 35 miles from mother) to make this place her entire & sbsolute home. I should think as | she lives a lonesome life (Betsey being married) it might suit her well, & be azreeable both to herself & my wife: | 12 me, most assuredly, it would. I do |not purpose 1o add more at present, the end of riy writing being only to inform you of this unhappy change.” - Profound sorrow manifestly pervaded the household and the grief-stricken mother, now left with only one child— i e ctic wepe ANd he away &t college—suffered, ASHINGTON and Mrs. Custis Were gniv a mother can mne‘r. from l):ed e W e January 6, 1759, and | of one so the bride brought to George, as part of near and dear to her. the property willed her, a legacy of 20.000 pounds sterling, consisting of cer- icates of deposit on the Bank of Eng- . tnclosed in a small iron chest. | which. in later years, was for a long | time in the custody of Mrs. Washing- on's grandson, George Washington Parke Custis, at his Arlington home, but which now forms a part of the . Washington exhibit in the National Museum. It is of a design common in | Coionial days, and of the type used by wealthy families up to the time of the inventicn of the iron safe of a more re- who come there from Washington, |mound at Cracow, in Poland, reared to | country: - i o . ry; for great powers of conversa- Georgetown and, Alexandria, dur'ng W¢ | the memory of the brave Koscusko.” | tion, for an ever-ready and generous fountain, gushing out from the roots of | He concluded his remarks by placing a | hospitality, for kirdness to the poo: fountain, B ie oak. which doubt- | Part of this earth on the Washington | for patriotism, for constancy of {riend- e o0d there when the Red Man, in |block to enter into the cement which | ship and for a more than filial devo- ' a remote age, came thither to slake his | Should bind it in the monument to the | tion to the memory and character of thirst. Around the spring is a beauti- | Pater Patriae. | Washington. His early speeches on the | ful grassy lawn, shaded by a variety of | The passing of George Washington |death of Gen. Lingan and the over- | trees. and affording a pleasant Sum- Parke Custis was mourned by all, as!throw of Napoleon were nm'hfre mmer resort Actuated by that generous |he had been—until the retrocession to!read and admired, even by those who Virginia of Alexandria County—one of | ¢!seented from the sentiments. for the which is everywhere previ a A ,‘:‘:.“F ‘3“32: South, Mr. Custis erected, | the District’s most highly honored (Continued on Sixth Pags. | several years ago, various structures for | {the accommodation of visitors to Ar-| lington Spring. He built a wharf for| convenient landing; a storeroom: a kit- | | chen: a dining hall. 60 feet in length; | land, a saloon of the same dimensions. | for dancing in. No spirituous liquors | are permitted to be sold on the prem- | | ises, nor are visitors allowed to come | there on the Sabbath. All t is asked | in return is the observance of thosz | death CEORCE WASHINGTON PARKE CUSTIS. indeed, a torrible blow and Washington | that exalted soul passad into the great e ugfl‘u o ha\: Wc;‘)’l like a child. beyond. o eing conducted into the death rhaps no cthel erical ’ Soon after the capitulation Washing- | chambsr, he found Mrs. Custis SGNJINg | had boter advantaces sifered him thin ton was informed of the serious turn | beside the deathbed of her husband, |young Custis had in his day. As a in the conditicn of his stepson and 1 weeping bitterly. Washington tenderl: ‘hild he met all of the great actors par- hastened to his bedside, where he had ! clasped her in his arms and when he | ticipating in the American Revolution, been preceded by Mrs. Washington and | had recovered his composurs said to | and when Washington became Presi- Dr. Craik, his physician.and companion | her: | den:, he was tak>n along with him to in arms. He was too late. The swift| “I adopt his two younger children New York to iive in tae old Osgood messenger of death had already laid | as my own from this hour.” House on Cherry street and later to | Benedict Calvert of Mount Airy, Md., DS hand upon the youthful syldler.; Shortly l!ler\\'nrd Eleanor parke | Philadeiphia. In both places he fre- and a descendant of Lord Baitimore, | Whose ability and virtues had already | Custis and Georg: Washington Parke | quently came in contact with the pio- | moral rules, and a reciprocation of the | Mrs. Washington and the general did | endeared him to those who knew hum. | Custis were taken to Mount Vernon and | neers in the butldw f this great re- | kind feeling which makes every class of | all they reasonably could to delay the ! Upon his arrival at Eltham Dr. Craik placed in the care of Mrs. Lund Wash- | public. as well as the most cultured and | respectable citizens cordially welcome. | marriage until son John had at least | greeted him with the sad information | ington. whose husband was managing i refined elemen with which the Pirst! A little boat called the G. W. P. Custis | reached his mafority. But when the and his grisf knew no bounds. It was,| the general's proparty at that place. | President continualiy surrounded him- | plies between the neighboring citles and When permanent peace returned and | seli. iArungwn Spring during the warm sea- | | { IKE thousands of boys and girls of the present day, this only remain- ing offspring—John Parke Custis—was | deeply smitten by the charms of Miss | ! Eleanor Calvert, second daughter of i cent period. From this it will be seen that when Washington married the beautiful ‘Widow Custis, and she said, “With all my earthly goods I thee endow,” the statement was a real, practical one. However, do not get the idea that Washington was penniless, for, indeed, he was well fixed. too, and the only proved at most the joining of two hearts and two fortunes. The story at- tributed to David Burnes of once saying to Washington. “If you had not mar- ried the Widow Custis, with her lands and slaves, you would never have been anything but a poor surveyor,” can easily be passed up as unfounded. We must admit that Burnes had some sense and must have known that Washing- ton was Tich in his own right. As evidence of this, when his brother, Lawrence Wi , died, he, by his will. dated June 29, 1752. left his entire t¢ to his infant daughter, Sarah, the provision that should she die without issu further distribution of the property so willed was to be made between his widow and his brothers. ‘The father died June 26, 1752, and the daughter, Sarah, only survived him by 8 few months. Lawrence’s widow, de. siring to marry Col. George Lee, gladly sccepted a dower right in lieu of the Modern Ulysses Sets New vFlag In countless homes where people dream of far-off beauty and gay ad- venture, the name of Richard Halli- burton has become a synonym for youthful enthusiasm, sparkiing im- nd romantic daring 4 from Princeton at one, he had gone on a vaga- urney around the world. At the book of his adv Royal Road 1o Ro t him % fame. He was like Alexander, be- more worlds w0 came the inspiration wander in the trail of Ulysses. He t—a modern American afiame Greck fire—and came back to lowing Odyssey of his own, e Glorious Adventure” Below is in a series of five articles in Ar. Halllburion takes us with n's new and happy road o to m old romance BY RICHARD HALLIBURTON. RASH! The lizhtning in a rage spiit the writhing firmament 1 sszly 10 the Cyclades 4 in one blazing, blinding glare reaks of fire burst into the Sriky darkress, inflaming the abyss stout me and lashing at the clouds that hurtied past he far-derting thunder, pral upon peal, roamed the Aegean Bea plunged across the Vale of Tempe, and ecnoing back from the walls of O sho0k the grani rocks 1 sat on The wreth of Jupiter had burst upon tor 1 hLad Le dmmortaly violated the sanc In his wrath 7 1 bed dured W climb the utmost pi- e of Mount Olympus and seat my- n e very thirone of the god Lignt WaS & sunge hour U be on wp Olympus. It was bad enough inao- lently Culodging Jupler by day from i castie, bt W eling Wenaclously ve Bmall wonder Be wssauited wiagely But how could I re. 1 wes trapped ten thousand feet Db on Wp B WWerng 1ok chimney L the precipitous walls of which § bad Laipriously (himbed that afternoon Cingwg fearfully W the litte creyics 1nat llowed one W ascend ouly si dnch * 8 time now thst night had come, and the rain 4 e clouds, and the lghtuing, W Uy W climb down, No, by sll the goas T vould not, eould nt, move v owes congoling. however 10 Kinow ted by outruged suffer alone. for 1 Crane, my Americsn compan- wnd little Lazarus, & heroic half- yrown ehepherd boy who slone of ) o retinue dared climb the finel peak viths e slood defiantly by my side 3y Gesperate effort 1 was able 1 find #1000 sl Uhis durkness some small ¥leam of eonsolstion. My porstion cor- seoponded o thit of & Journalist Whose Jusune was wrecked over his head by au e gueke - GisoomiorUng, yes, bt wagnifient copy Even_before Jeaving fsr-awsy New York. Roderie and 1 hed chosen the 1onreeke of Olympus for our Hrst grem et seccnt of tils tmmortal siter » 14 would have bren suicidul, | Washington again took up his restdence | e was educated along the most prac- at Mount Veinon he and Mrs. Wash lines i the best schools of his ington assumed intimate and active forming the fiHundation for his care of the two children, who proved |:::’squent taste fer art and literature, of much comfort to them in their de- ond equipping him as well for the clining years. speaker’s platform, which he delighted As T have told you before, the older 'in filiing in ator years. children, Elizabeth Parke Custis and the deain of nis grand- Martha_Parke Custls, marrled. respec- e e sister, Mi | t tively, Thomas Law and Thomas Peter. Oi the two younger children, or those | 4, | adopted by Washingtor.. Eleanor Parke ! Custis, callad Nelll* Cugiis, was born March 21, 1779, and married Maj. Law- rence Lewis. She died July 15, !4 {and is buricd In the lamily vault at Mount Vernon Her husband. Mayj. Lewis, died at Arling! November 29, In 1802, in pation of his marriage to Miss wiich orcurred two years !later, he began the erection of Arling- {ton House, w, as we of the present | day usually cali it—Arlipgton Mansion. It wes here he btrought his 16-year-old bride, and hf‘l;c l‘;,t breathed his last Arlin Dvember October 10, 1857, his wife having pre- . 1839, and reposes 150 at Mount Verncil. | caded him to the grave by about four BN | years, ASHINGTON'S namesake, George Thcb hu}l:eder of this historic home Washington okn 1o | €ame by the proverty through the death | asiington Parks Custis, the of'yig father, John Parke Custis, before youngest of the.chiidien and the butlder | mentioned, and tha latter had pur-. of Arlington Mansion, was horn at é.husfl:’ "lm Deccmber 25, 1778, from Mount Airy, April 3, 1701, From the | Gerard Alexander. For ths 1,100 acres o 8 mouths oid il ihe secured by him and which the tract randmother, Martha | then contained he paid £1,100 in Vir- h occurred at Mount | inia currency. May 22, 1802, he| The old mansion, a’tcr a lapse of & wes continually under her guidance and | century and a qua:ter, scems to be in & | influence, or under the instruction cf, subctantial condition and is about as | his distingnisi:>d adopted father, until | near the origina’ as any building of its | THE SMALL IRON C | WHEN TURNED OV WASHINGTON BY HIS BRIDE { Autumn of 1852 more than 20.60) pco- | ple visited Arlington Spring.” | "1 have before me a-very | relic along this line, sent to my mother many years ago. | today in a similar card. It reads: “Ladies’ Invitation Americus Club Pic-Nic et ! Arlington Spring Committee of Invitation: W. H. Beardsley, P. J. Colison, | seems to have been taken away, or per- | hay more likely, Mount Vernon | Springs and other river resorts super- |seded it in the affections of the fickle |and terpsichorean public. Though never a success as a play- wright, yet the sage of Arlington wrote several plays which were acted out at the Old National, on the site of the son; and almost cvcry day parties of | from 50 to 200 are seen there. It is| estimated that during th> Summer end | interesting | It is an unusunlrlly . 'O Vi | neat card, and displays more typograph- | for twovears | Y art than one is likely to obtain | Alter the death of Mr. Custis, in 1857, | the privilege of using Arlington Spring ; A VIEW OF ARLINGTON. | was to be a pilgrimage in quest of at- | —and such strange ones. He was lean-, o s | mosphere and stage-setting, and of | ing on his crook looking so shy, and 7NN | proper adjustment to the spirit of our | yet so fearless; so wistful, and yet so| ., s iexpedmcn. 1f we were going to revive | self-sufficient. i /2 > the e xssic days of Homer and rellve’ At close range he proved an extraor- | 7 the life of Ulyssez. I felt it imperative | dinary little satyr. He had never owned | (despite Roderic’s skepticism) to try ml- hat other than his mat of sun- get acquainted with Zeus and Athens. | bleached hair: he had never had a| with Hermes and Neptune, who had | home other than the hillside. He wa: heen to blame for all the good and all | as uncivilized as any of the half-wild | the harm that came to our hero. | goats he shepherded—and as hardy (Note: No attempt has been made tG | Whatever initial distrust the child had be consistently Creek or consistently | of us was changed to idolatrous worship | Latn in the terminology of the gods.) | when we expressed amazement and ad- * 5 4 % miration on sceing him rake out sev- UR - spproach ‘was from ‘Salooixy, | Caliglowing embets from the fro snd city, we bad looked southward and firs: | carry them in his bare, calloused hands ©On a hilltop behind this ancient | {5 another spot. Our compliments s seen the most celebrated mountain i1 the world. My pulse incrgased at the touched his affection-starved heart | that he was our very shadow until our { very signt of {t—Olympus—the far-off, | unapproachable capital of classic Greek | climb was over. From Saloniki. Olympus had appear- | mythology, and Greek art and culture and life itself. To honor the gods of ed pinnacled and defiant. Now, at close | range. all we had found was a rather barren hillside—and here we were ale { oxmlm:n l"-.f‘l-‘ru’hln)n* u-nlill'l:lfl‘ '(-Y Gr"‘v-" { most at the top—or 50 it seemed, Never rose in marble majes ) the image rf [ gore ances o Olympian gods Rands of Bhidia were appearances so decelving. Our and Praxiteles gave posterity fuch | sculpture that each poor fragment i young shepherd-guide, realizing we had & shock in store, had rushed on ahead enthroned by modem wrt. and guardea | 5 “PL S G ® U eained the rim, as @ priceless porsession. In the | there stood Lazarus, in breathless ex- ligion the world has ever Kknown giqden canyon that dropped dizzlly Biovmed Hor losad Sies | away. on the other side of ‘Which soared a flu | pus, lLke the beautiful legends g Encient Greece, was only & myth, a | *PATKHNE rock o ¢ Neigh- smmortality, which no longer really ex- | 5 ? it , sted 1 this lconoclastic age. The view ym:’:a P‘u:k;',wz:fl;’fl:.bu'"g:t e a massive, purple, peak-ridged moun- 3 = . . : yond reach us heaven itself, The an ain loomed in the distance, & ten- | cony Greeks felt they were safe in plac- snow and disdemed in clouds; and tht | 16 CPET AR G0 B, S0 eliet e et e D, s '"'{d'_nlum any mortsl man could climb its tirone of Zeus | Bu right they were in belleving the gy W deligted b B . ohe | summil unconquerable that, though seunity had invaded the slopes, and the o0 gumous mountatn n the world, [ ut Tar ahove, ita pinnacle still shone | e oldest in song and story, the hesven into the night, soaring toward Ui | pepuined the Just accessible mountain Next duy. scorning t0be climbed. to the crest, calling back for us to hur- shadow of Olympus the most happy re- | citement, his crook outstretched over a And yet 1 hiad always felt that Olym- (20, stalegmite tower of neked of | 1 $ - that vagur representation of divinity &rd | ,NO oue feeded Lo toll Lo that this from Ealoniki distlluzioned me, for now | brared 1o be easty B0 Uy Do thowsand-foor mountain touched with | ot G B IR OO A e mountuin, ss firm, &x real, as tangible | siaggy walls and shatter their thealogy T was, delighted 1o find it 5o beautiful | Olympus has been for 3,000 years the hadows were deepening in the gorges. of u great and beautiful religon, it heavens, Hlowly- ke & p WITHE ONE FRIGHTEUL CRASH OF LIGHTNIN AND, LASHING IS MIGHTY HOR® DROVE THUNI and nearer from out of the chas. | eternally into Jupiter's throne. The Bearcely had we galned the summit | final E and N were completed. We when Lazarus began o implore us to [ pocketed our knives and harkened at escape from the chlmney-tp while the Fhat 1o Lawnrus' walls of diatsosa-~too atmosphere was sUll clear enough o | lute, One sweep of the wind, and the make de Nt possible. But before we | fog, with startiing suddenness, from all fled we were determined to Jeave bee | divections st once, had thrown its im- hind & earved record of our conquest penetrable blanket over us. We drew on wp » ,n:nl flat boulder right at|back from the brink, in alarm. the point of the ueedle, the Bwisk| The fog soon grew thicker and wetter, | ‘Twilight was_approaching, and in the | | secret mind of each of us urprvlunflun fwas growing. We had left our coats |behind with the soldiers, and alveady | I the sharp wind that was driving the | | fog across our 10,000-foot peroh, we _\u‘,l;! boginning to be uncomfortably | cold * xw ¥ completed the descent into the Intervening chasm 1o the great chimney, Beumpering up it like one of the goats he tended, Lazarus beckon- ed us on Painfully we followed him an inch at a time, chinging to thin crack, feeling for the next, not dering to look down at the clouds that were gathering below. Several times the shule gave wiy beneath us, and our hearts almost stopped as we looked i the gulch and ssw how fur an anche would take us, Nothing made Laza stop. Me maoved relentlessly on, calling back en- couragingly, returning to redirect our missteps, supplying such an abundance of moral support that he actually got us up the last grim battlement and led us with shout over the top. Jupiter hnd seen s crawling lke fles up o his inviolute sanctuary, and, real- izing that we were determined (o selze the summit, had fown swiy to marshal his wrmies of defense In consequence & phalanx of black clouds with glower g fuces was already sailing ominous- Iy past, entirely obscuring the long anticipated panorama. The clouds were rapidly rising nearer hour on crass nsberial natters Mk qupment end provisons and direc- tions, we hurried off to vieit the god< and et Larises n Thessaly, on the op- poxite wide of the mountein, made ready for the grand assailt Phe second night found-ux sleeping on Lhe ground wta shepherd's camp not far below the summit. N shall I forgel Whose Arcadinn hours, ,We moved buck two thoussnd years und lived | sgain 10 classic pastoral Greece. The shepherds with their sunburned curls i thely couts of skin and felt, carrying {iheir crooks, and pleying their melan- choly pipes wmid thelr tinkling focks might have siepped stiaight out of mythologics) literature. Fhe full moon rose over the pine-clad summits thut | walled us in, revealing the stilled herds upon the hillside and casting fantasth; shadows wmong the rocks that might hiwve been Pan und the Centaurs joined i their nightly dence I was on this night thet Jewarus, | the shepherd boy, snnexed himself from {out of nowhere W our retinue. We | wlanced up from our campfire to find {him standing just inside the circle of Jight, with wn expression of wonder and curiosity on his firelit face- foreigners THE OUTRAGED | climber Bolasonnas, who in 1913 was the fAirst mortal 1o scale this highest tower of Olympus, had built @ 3-foot rock cafrn 83 @ monument o his slg- nificant uchievement, On the sams houlder were the engraved names of two other parties who followed. And here, too, fog or no fog, our names, ay the fourth party, must be emblazoned s a sort of visiting card for Jupliter | when he returned \'l‘llE“E wits 1o hope of escape now Hurrledly we scruped uway at the 1 morning. - We must proteol our- rock with our kntves —closer crept ths | selves as beal we could In antieipation clouds. Lazavus became frantie at our [ of & long and patnful exposure Home | Indifference o the trap tnclostng us | sort of ahleld agatnat the biting wind | would help a lithle, a0 the thiee of s, | ke But we saw only the magnificent Crane and Halliburton we were carving | - i GOD SOUNDED THE CHARGE, DERING UPON hands and knees, collected all the loose rocks we could find and piled them tnto # low wall abutting the boulder on top of which the calrn was bullt. When twhich we had olung to all the way up), decorated at the top by my red hund:mn handkerchief, our flag of con- Ques| Night came all too soon-—-black, grim, threatening, It was 8 o'vlock now. ‘The sun would tiwe about 3. Nine hours of this! But it the weather got N0 worse it would be merely & matier of ending & oold, howrs—not of endangering lfe or imb The weather did get worse. mueh | much worse. Jupiter was only tmpri- Jsoning us with the fog. And now that we were helplessly piuned W the needie- point, he prepared to charge furloualy With every element at hix conupand and aweep these usurpers over the AL 9 o'clock, with one frighttul erash were In place, we ralsed ! over them Lasarus' shepherds crook | disngreeable nine | Pinnacle of Mount Olympus the charge, leaped into his char:ot and, lashing his mighty horses, drove thun- | dering upon us. His first hurled bolt + missad its mark. ripped past us and | struck a wall across the canvon. shat- tering a portion of it and sending the fragments dashing down the precipice. On rolled the Olympian cavalry of | clouds in a fresh barrag:. The battal- ! ton of winds charged our bastion. over- hurling our flagsiaff and slashing our ! brave bandana into shreds. Apollo's archery followed close behind. A hun- | dred million raindrop' arrows he shot !into our faces and drove through our | Back and forth. over | flapping clothes. :gs;dunder us, the great chariots rum- | bled. We grew wetter, colder, more miser- | try to stand against the onslaught over us, was just as cruel. The di- | which. accompanied by a cloudburst, 1 gave myself up for dead. I hoped [ lay stift and aching under my granite stones, shout some terrible muph.-:fi chorus and supplem-nisd Lasrus' pro- e ox o l 1 do not believe Ju- more hour of this exposure had I not rifices! How stupld of us not to have \ stood our intentions. A ram offered up ture of the classic world from Olympus* | able. To leave our little shelter and would be cruel punishment: to remain, | with the fcy water pouring in gullies jlemma was abruptiy soived by an | espectally furious assault of the wind, | flung itself with a roar against our bat- 1 tlement and toppled it on to our heads. {1 was dead: u\ythgu to escape the un- | endurable plagues of cald and ramn. 1 grave until I heard somew here in the melee of arms and legs and | at_the eclements. Here was the fighting spirit! Rod and 1 joined tn the fane-sounding vituperations with a fine siring of our own THIS castigation of the gods only ine | A creased their indignation. It ratned harder than ever. | piter would have let us lve through one thought of a perfectly obvious method of gaining relief from his wrath—sac- thought of this even befare hoginning the ascent. No wonder he misunders that morning would undoubdtedly have assured us bright skies and a clear ples top. While we had carelessly forgotten to bring along up the preciplce any uflem\in( ropitiation Quickly T made an inventary of all our sacrificial properties. and in the torrential darkness cammandee whatever was disclosed. 1 should have Uked t0 sacrifice Roderics mustache, but it was undetachable. With thia groat prise ellminated. the collecton was not very ve. It consisted of ane pocketful of sour, weatherbeaten | aoat's oheese (fram Lasarus) and & small bottle of mastika. & hishly a halio Qyeek liquor which tastes s much like stale paregorio that even though i¢ had been given to me by the shepherds for fust such emergencies as this, 1 | Would vather have frasen o death than Ldrunk it This mastika would be & Daplendid glit W Jupitersinee 1! [ oouldin't swallow 1t anyway. We wore sorely handivapped oy not Knowing much about olassie vitwal, Burning the Mhrlut AR PITes Was ane way, but with our ¢! dissalved o & SOURY consistency and with our matehes creeping eauttously through the fog oniof lightning, the outraged god sounded ! floating around n our pockels and | deflant walls of fat! rams or wreath-hung bullocks, it might | not yet be too late far same modest [ ang Thrace fhame of the Centaurs, and the hapay | Nd! [ Pitra, through which the Persian bar o \ | SHOWING THE SPRING. nothing but dripping granite for fuel, we gave up that plan. ‘There was only one thing left to do— « drop the irresistible gifts solpmnly it the abyss. Overboard went the cheese. and as the mastika was poured after it. I sug- gested to Jupiter that he take note of cur homage sufficiently to call off th chower-dath And would you believe it?—not runutes afterward. the rain desss: the thunderer’s chariots rumbled er hanging rad antly in the southern sky, the moon that we had seen at the sheph spring the night before smiled agam.. Even 50, though the rain had lasted hardly more than an hour. we still had six or seven hours more to endure our sodden clothes. It wasmn't pearly bad. though. now that we cowld see one another. and know that we wene free of any further persecution f! the gads. A THOUSAND years more passed A and upon the eastern heavens, .ar out over the Aegean. a gray light grew Land and ocean began fo unfold. Be- fore Aurora’s ra . Diana waned. and drooped. and sank to sleep, and left her rival in undisputed possession of the Grecian world In the startling glory of the sunrise. Roderte and Lamrus and 1 almest fo got our frozen MNmbds and fatled notice one another’s weary faces Wwas just as well, for Im sure our & pearances and exprassions must have been not far removed from that of three half-drowned alley-cats Even these poor creatures would have for- gotten thelr misery when the charit of the Sun. drawn dy his gloww harses, not e but exploded from the St scattering golden fite against the mt Olympas. oot upward into the we found ourselves .o ! As the sun ¢ storm-cleared sky mnacled & range of peaks—all ail rmpus. From the foot of this throne all classie Qreece rolled away, to Pel- fon and Ossa, to the plains of Thessaly and the Vale of Tempe, to Mount Pa nassus capped with snow, and the sternal isles of the A The vallev to the north openad toward Macedo This valley was onve 1 land whete Qupheus nature With his musie. Toward the west we saw the pass of enchanted al 08 under Xerxes, hav eroseed Hellmapant on & of boats vaded Cleece & s Therma Aght the dattle of e TO the south was Ther- wmopriae ltself, and far. far acros ihe castern ooean—but no farther than the sods tould see--the walls of Troy! What exultation danced within m* The aftrnoon betare, Qreece had deen QY AR ocean of alouds and velisd Olympus fust aie Imare mountan. Now. W all tts splendor, 1 could ses What 1 had cwme 10 see- the Cresde of myth and logend. of hetnie deeds and sudlike men. of Achilies and Ulysses, of Jeus amd At sna the Inmwrial (reece Af Hamer's eple poetry, all beheld from e SACiAnCt st of Mount Qlyws r\n SOlympus, where the dwelting of he gods standeih tast farever Wonriahl LRe