Evening Star Newspaper, January 6, 1935, Page 73

‘. ST ¥ oounselors have their way. The party makes no great show in uniform or horses. “Mr. Lincoln, on the saddle, generally rides a good-sized, easy-going gray horse, is dressed in plain black, somewhat rusty and dusty, wears a black stiff hat and looks about as ordinary in attire, etc., as the commonest man. A lieutenant, with yellow straps, rides at his left, and following behind, two by two, come the cavalrymen in their yellow-striped jackets. They are generally going at a slow trot, as that is the pace set them by the one they wait upon. “The sabres and accoutrements clank, and the entirely unornamental cortege, as it trots toward Lafayette Square, arouses no sensation, only some curious stranger stops and gazes. I see very plainly Abraham Lincoln’s dark brown face, with the deep-cut lines, the eyes always to me with a deep latent sadness in the expression. We have got so that we exchange bows, and very cordial ones. “Sometimes the President goes and comes in an open barouche. The Cavalry always accompanies him, with drawn sabres. Often I notice as he goes out evenings—and sometimes in the morning, when he returns early—he turns off and halts at the large and handsome residence of the Secretary of War, on K street, and holds conference there. If in his barouche, I can see from my window he does not alight, but sits in his vehicle, and Mr. Stanton comes out to attend him. Sometimes one of his sons, a boy of 10 or 12, accompanies him, riding at his right on a pony. “Earlier in the Summer I occasionally saw the President and his wife, toward the latter part of the afternoon, out in a barouche on & pleasure ride through the city. Mrs. Lincoln was dressed in complete black with a long crepe veil. The equipage is of the plainest kind, only two horses, and they nothing extra. They passed me once very close and I saw the President in the face fully, as they were Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, who vis- sted Washington in 1839 and in 1863. He called the Capital “The City of Lost Footsteps.” moving slowly, and his look, though abstracted, happened to be directed steadily in my eye. He bowed and smiled, but far beneath his smile I noticed well the expression I have alluded to. None of the artists or pictures has caught the deep though subtle and indirect expression of this man’s face. There is some- thing else there. One of the great portrait painters of two or three centuries ago is needed.” HIS noted writer, who began his career set- ting type at the case, gives in his “‘Speciman Days” much interesting matter relating to the hospitals arcund Washington during the Civil War, he having volunteered for duty as an Army nurse in 1862, for three years, and his lines relating to his visits to the wounded soldiers sent here for treatment but illustrate his great sympathetic soul. He wrote some very fine verse, but the one that appeals to the human emotions most was written at the time of the assassination of President Lincoln. It is entitled “Oh, Cap- tain! My Captain!” and is as follows: “Oh, Captain! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done, The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring: But Oh, heart! Heart! Heart! Oh, the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. ®Oh, Captain! My Captain! Rise up and hear | the bells; Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores acrowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, - their eager faces turning; Here, Captain! Dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead. ®My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C., JANUARY 6, 1935. My father does not feel my arm, he has no nor will, The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult Oh, shores, and ring Oh, bells! But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.” DMUND C. STEDMAN, who first came to Washington from New York as @ war cor- respondent of the New York World, is said to have had sufficient spare time when at his desk in the Attorney General’s office to write “Alice of Monmouth.” Nathaniel Hawthorne, referred to as the most imaginative and eminent of American romancers, upon one occasion came to Wash- ington to have his portrait painted by an artist named Leutz. This was in 1862, or two years before the distinguished writer died, and this happened to be the last sitting he gave. Of the circumstances connected with the portrait painted here, and of a photograph ef him taken in London, unknown to him, though it proved to be his best, the following old item, of unknown origin, gives the interesting facts: “Hawthorne, you are aware, delighted to sit for his portrait, and would watch with keen interest the growth of the picture upon the canvas. You will remember his own account of his sittings at Washington in 1862, the last he ever gave. ‘I think,’ he wrote, ‘it will be the best ever painted of the same unworthy subject. One charm it must needs have—an aspect of immortal jollity and well-to-do-ness; for Leutze, when the sitting begins, gives me a first-rate cigar, and when he sees me get- ting tired, he brings out a bottle of splendid champagne; and we quaffed and smoked yes- terday, in a blessed state of mutual good-will, for three hours and a half, during which the picture made a really miraculous progress. Leutze is the best of fellows.’ “To sit for his photograph, however, was ex- tremely irksome, especially in later years, when, as he has said, ‘The sun seems to take an in- fernal pleasure in making me venerable, as if I were as old as himself." J. Lothrop Motley, who well knew Hawthorne’s aversion to photographic processes, set a trap for his friend, in this wise, He invited him to walk one day in London, and as they were passing the studio of a well-known photographer, Motley asked Hawthorne to step in and make a selection from some pictures of himself which were ready, he supposed, for ex- amination. They entered, chatting pleasantly Uncooked Pork TH‘.E use of pork products which always in- creases with the advent of cold weather, has brought a renewal of the warning to the public to be certain that any fresh pork used be thoroughly cooked in order that all danger of trichinosis be removed. According to a report received recently by the Bureau of Animal Industry, two persons became seriously ill and one died as a result of eating, at a party, a mixture of raw ground-up pork and beef. The purchase was made at a local butcher shop in a large Eastern city. The cus- tom of eating certain pork products raw is not widespread in this country, but is fairly com- mon among some of the foreign-born inhabi- tants of our larger cities. The cause of the illness and death was trichinosis, a disease of humans caused by small threadworms known as trichinae. These para- sites occur occasionally in the muscle tissue of pork. When infested pork is eaten by human beings in a raw or insufficiently cooked state, the parasites are set free in the digestive tract, where they grow and multiply. Ultimately the new generation invades the muscles of their human victims and produces the disease, trichinosis, which may be exceedingly painful and long drawn out. In extreme cases, it causes death. “There is no danger whatsoever from pork, so far as trichinosis is concerned, if care is taken together, Hawthorne at the time being in the best of spirits. Dropping into a chair which Motley placed for him, he looked brightly after his friend disappearing behind a screen in quest of the proofs. At this moment and with this look of animation upon his face, the photograph referred to was taken, the artist having made all necessary preparations to capture a likeness from the unsuspecting sitter. \ “Motley’s proofs were produced and examined, and Hawthorne was never told that he had been’ Joel Barlow, who wrote the “Colum- biad” and other poems. He once owned Kalorama. taken. This was shortly before the family ree turned home. One of the children, it seems, I think it was the ethereal Una, had seen the surreptitious picture at Motley’s or at Bene noch’s, and on the homeward voyage she ree ferred to it, and said it was a beautiful Hkee ness, far better than she had ever before seen. “Hawthorne, of course, was incredulous, and assured his wife that® the child must be mis- taken, After her husband’s death, Mrs. Haw- thorne became acquainted with the facts as narrated and at her earnest entreaty the photo- graph was sent to her.” Warning Issued to cook well all pork and products containing pork muscle tissue,” says Dr. Benjamin Schwartz, department =2zoologist. “Pork,” he states, “is one of the most appetizing articles in the human diet. Only a very small proportion of the hogs in this country are infested with trichinae, but it is dangerous to eat raw or im- properly cooked pork. These parasites in pork are rather easily destroyed by cooking. Dead trichinae cannot produce trichinosis. To avoid trichinosis, follow the simple precaution: Cook all pork well done.” Butter Price Levels price of butter, which has risen since last Summer, has finally come to a steady level because of the tariff margin. At present . the import duty on butter is 14 cents a pound. The price in New York is now 13 cents above the price in London. One more cent rise in price and the full margin would be used up, thus inviting the importation of butter. Should such a situation eventuate, the result might be such an influx of foreign butter that prices once more would slump. Because of this threat, 1t is considered ime probable that prices will go any higher unless the London price alse:should start to rise, House at 1308 H street northwest, where Edgar Allan P oe is said to have lived. The house is no longer standing. ! 'HE literary fleld in Washington covers se much territory that the entire ground can- not be covered in limited space, for Washington has had so many talented writers of its own, im addition to the celebrated ones who have just paid us a visit or two. For instance, there is Joaquin Miller, “Poet of the Sierras,” who did newspaper work here in Washington and lived in the Miller log cabin, which was later moved to Rock Creek Park. To Mrs. Southworth, the writer has given much space heretofore, and so has he spoken of Charles Dickens’ two visits here. And this reminds him of a letter he re- oeived last June from a distinguished Washing- tonian who, as a boy, attended one of Dickens’ lectures in old Carroll Hall, then on G street, between Ninth and Tenth streets. The letter follows: “Dear Mr. Proctor: “I was interested in your Dickens article tn last Sunday’s Star, and especially in your refer- ence to the reading by Dickens of the ‘Christe mas Carol’ on his second visit to Washington i 1868. My father took me (a boy of 10) to that reading. One incident of the occasion stands out distinctly in my memory. When the re- formed and penitent Scrooge tells the small boy to buy for him the big Christmas turkey, the boy exclaims: ‘Walk-er!’ Dickens shot out with emphasis this British slang word of that era, expressing complete and indignant credulity, and his sharp exclamation caused a dog smug- gled into the audience to bark yigorously as if in response. The audience laughed and Dick- ens laughed with them.” Of course, as said before, this is barely skime ming the surface of a very big field, and the writer knows it, but he hopes later on to return to the subject. . 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