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'The Toss of ;
A Copper. I
Story of My Experience With *
Two Lovers. *
|BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS, JR. \
L. i _ v
LETTER 'SO. 3?(Continued.)
There was a tinge of respeot in that &
"my" of his by which I was strangely d
gratified. Well, as soon as they were c
comfortably fixed, there followed strolls *
In the park, reminiscences of our child- a
hood days, tales of fighting, encomiums
upon the land of the sun, of the desert, 1
of the oasis, horses fleet as the wind p
and Bupple as the waves, days robed iD t;
blinding sunlight, night6 clad in blue? a
an immediate friendship, complete and
THERE FOLLOWED STROLLS IS THE PARK. D
trustruh Jitot a bbadow of any mental h
ixickery, neither on his part nor on mine, t
yfe were cousins, we "were brother and a
elster. 0! his father, left behind and u
watching over his extensive vineyards, e
Bene spoke with the tenderness of a y
;-v child, and little by little I came upon e
the gentleness and'sweetness of a young n
girl maaen away in xne cnaracier ui ujib v
Bedouin. Shall I tell you exactly wiiat t<
I discovered? It is this: In all the c
-glimpse of his life, which up to the present
has been that of a tru9 soldier de- c
voted to his profession, I don't see any i<
place for a woman. He has never been a
,ln love, that's certain. I see it, I feel h
It. For ten years?he's thirty now?it's %
"been his custom to keep a journal. I ji
asked him to let me s^e it. He promised ]<
to do so without the slightest hesitation, li
"Think of it, dear Blanche, a man of
thirty, an officer being able to hand the e:
daily record of his life to a young girl to c<
read! He only had his diary of the cur- p
rent year with him. b
"It's fortunate," said he, "for you'd be "bored
to- death if you attempted to read
manv of these books. Filled as they are
"with a constant recurrence of the same
subject, you'd find them insufferably
I was anxious to look the book
through at once. Would there be a
mention of me? Why this curiosity on
my part? He sets down everything, so
there must be something about his coming
to Bee us. How would he express
himself? , i
Under dato of June 13 I found this:
"Yesterday mother received a letter
from Madame de Marias. Her daugh'ter
must be a very pretty girl if she has
fulfilled the promise she gave ten yeare
Farther along, under the date of his
arrival, June-27, I found this:
* ^Arliienr.s is a very pretty girl, and .<
very intellectual, too, and very kind."
That's all I found, Blanche. I wish
there had been more. I had told Casi- t
mir of my cousin's expected arrival. 1 had
talked about him as if ho were a big re
\ boy, not very bright, in fact, a mere
nobody. You would have laughed if you in
could have seen his look of astonish- ai
ment, of disappointment, when the two tl
men came face to face. I hadn't told 3<
him of the transformation which had fi:
anmriuoi'l \Vhv didn't T tpll him? I ic
can't say; possibly I didn't want him to n1
know that I had seen any change. I ti
didn't want to 6eeni to have taken any ol
particular notice of Rene. tl
"The profession of arms has benefited
your cousin very nvich," remarked Casi- d
mir. "He has become a very handsome t<
fellow, and bears very little resemblance w
to your description." P'
"He has been very ill," I stammered, h
"That makes him the more interest- b
, F?g," be made answer slowly, and as he b
uttered these words Casimir looked ^
steadily into my eyes. His filled with
eadness. I had almost said tear.=. I T
yearned to throw my arms around his o
neck, so thankful was I to him for this o
Involuntary display of jealousy. I is
. Wanted to say to him: a
"Are you out of your wit?? Can you fi
suppose that Kene seemed to me any t)
more than a playmate of my childhood, f<
v. a relative seen after long absence?" g
But I held my peace. Something told s
me that that was the best. I even ap- li
peared a little nettled by his remark, (
but in manner only. After all. 1 was il
Hot engaged to Ca6imir; he had no o
right to make such a remark. The a
"A Af IfkCCi OA ftc "Pawo Vi i m f nl f ti
UViU OV V* Ul^ iVCO r?V, U.O JIVV/1XV UlUiOVll ,
after the presentation, had 6hown the
keenest discernment and the greatest p
"Cousin," he had said to me, "there's
no need of seeing you and M. de Yillelong
together for any length of time
without being able to predict a marriage.
I must say he impresses me at a
L most thorough gentleman."
"You are in error!"
He is not a thorough gentleman?"
"Oh, yes; but there is no question of
"Why did I tell this falsehood? "What
Impulse led me to utter it? I was under
no obligation to make Rene my confidant,
but I felt that the moment he
guessed the truth I would be in honor
bound not to deny it to Casimir. I was
ashamed of myself, i turned abruptly
away from Bene. I hurried to my room.
I burst into tears. I can write no more 1
now. God help me! Would that you ,
were here, Blanche!
LETTER NO. 4. 1
SAME TO SAMK (
When I left my room the next morr>k
Ing, dear Blanche, I had made up my
k wiim? to one thini:?it was 'to say to
mamma that she might authorize Cas-imir
t.? ask for my hand. It was the only
thing I could do to make atonement to 1
my own conscience lor the cowardly (
act?yes, there's no other word for it? ^
which I had committed. It was necos- '
aarv for me to ounish myself at once. '
"Why punish myself? Would my becoming
Casimir's wife be a punishment' 1
What juggling with words was this? I
was deeply agitated, dissatisfied with
Casimir, with Jtfene, with myself above
all, for the two others were quite innocent.
Ca9imir loved me and was jealous.
He was afraid he was going to lose me.
He let me 6ee it; it was very natural
he should. Kene had guessed our love,
Hivinpdour intentions. He had told me
bo frankly. He praised the man that I
was in love -with. Why shouldn't he,
since he wasn't in love with me him- 1
V ?ielf? Why 6hould he love me? He
9 )iad other things to do. He was to re* i
[ : '
urn to Africa to tight, to stop some bit
f murderous lead, while Casimir and I
rere amusing ourselves at the opera.
I mu6t confess some men really do
eserve credit. Look at this young man
f thirty, a handsome, intelligent felin
JW, \JU V CUVi V A AX v ilAUU O
iand, just escaping death ic a hospital
?ard, and perfectly satisfied to come
,nd spend hi6 6ick leave with his mother
ike a simple college boy at our country
ome! No woman is in his life. No,
ot one! He receives no letters, he
i-rites none. He will soon join his regiaent
to begin anew a life of fatigue,
bedience, toll, devotion, renunciation,
o end in getting shot in some out-of-theray
comer, and dying like an animal,
rithout careful attention, without tender
ursing. Isn't it admirable?
1 could not brinp; myself to ask mamma
o authorize Casimir to propose. But I
id the next best thing. As he only
ame out to the country twice a week,
found out a way to 'have him there
11 the time. I told Rene freely and
rankly everything in regard to my ineution
of marrying Casimir, and by
o doing 1 made it possible for me to
alk about him at any and all times, just
s if he were present. I knew I could
rust Rene, that he wouldn't mention it
ither to mamma or to his mother.
Wasn't I right in doing so? Suppose my
larriage shouldn't take place?an aburd
supposition, but everything is posible?Rene's
lips would be sealed forver.
In thus making a confidant of my
ouein I would have the satisfaction of
eeing how he took it?what effect it
ad upon him?for while out walkiDg
le day before with his mother, who
as absolutely ignorant of my intent,
tie had let drop certain words, from
hich I concluded that she was feeling
ow the land lay, as the expression is.
feigned not to understand. Could she
ave had, thought I, some scheme in
iew in thus visiting us with her son?
To tell Rene everything would be to
nd his hopes then and there. Would
; not be more loyal? But all this time
lere was nothing forbidding me to
eep an eye on him, to observe how he
cted. If I was ever in his thoughts he
lust have_ had splendid control over
imself. ne didn't draw a muscle. He
hanked me for my confidence in him,
nd asked me to preserve it always and
nder all circumstances. Under all cirumstances?
Did he foresee something
,-hich I did not? Did he have a differnt
opinion from me in regard to Casilir?
I made up my mind to observe him
ery closely when they were together,
3 see if he manifested any spite, any
He grasped his hand with genuine
ordiality, and from the moment he
;arneu of my affection for Casimir he
ppeared to take the greatest interest in
im. It's quite likely that he has never
iven me a thought and t&at he is not
1 his mother's scheme at all; that he
)oks upon me as his little cousin, as a
ttle girl, in fact.
Meanwhile I'm delighted with the
ITect of my frankness. Casimir has
ompletelv gotten over his alarm and is
erfectly at ease with Rene. They've
ecome the best of friends, and take
AKE REAL PLEASURE IX BEING TOGETHER,
:al pleasure in being together. And
) we three pass our time walking, talkig
and riding. Hene is a fine artist,
id Casimir is a good musician. Now
lat R*ne ie with us there was no rea
)ii why Casimir should keep up his
xed ena official visits, and so mamma
ivlted him to>come and spend a fortight
with ue. "And. in the meanme,"
6aid she, "I shall, as occasion
Ters, let our friends know the truth of
Cut, dear Blanche, I have asked for a
clay. My soul is so deeply and mys:riously
enraptured as I am, that 16,
hen I don't get terror-stricken at my
jsition. I protest to you that Bene
as not made Casimir lose in my eyes,
ut still Casimir'6 rights have 'not
linded me as to Bene's qualities,
r'hen one of them is away I lack sorneling.
How shall I express myself?
'hey are complementary to one anther.
One is light, the other is dark;
ne is a Parisian full of wit. the other
; an Oriental full of melancholy: both
re handsome, brave, intelligent, rencd.
Need I assure you, Blanche,
hat if I had been Casimir's wife beore
Bene arrived I should not have
lanced at my cousin, for I'm quite
ure of my own honesty; or had I be<m
tone's wife I shouldn't have noted
'asimir. To sum up, dearest, incredible
as it may seem, I'm as happy with
ne as with the other, but when the?
re both with me ray happiness is much
;reater. Yes, it is perfect.
When I am alone at night I interroate
myself. I prove myself; I uttempl
o *<\Tru*?r<? two beincrs. I se? *
hem in no uncertain light, but ju6t R9
hey are, completely different, but
squally full of tenderness and svm>athy.
I reBolved last night to fall
isleep while all my thoughts were with
Casimir, and I succeeded, but I dreamt
f Bene all night long. In a word, dear
Blanche, give ear but keep ray secret[
love two men, and say it I must, I
ove one as well as the other. It's
nonstrous! At times I wish that some
leadly ailment might come upon me to
;et mc out of this tangle. Have pity
in rne. dearest, and tell me what to do.
LETTER NO. 5.
BLANCHE TO ADRIENNE. (Return Riall.)
Since you love one as well as you dc
tho other, to=6 up a copper! Many th?
ane chance selects for you. You will
probably regret the other up to the
morning of your marriage. You won't
think of hiin alter that. Kisses and
nonsolation from your old school friend,
lETTEK NO. C.
ADRIS.NNE TO BLANC'IIH
Now I know What I've always suspected,
that you never loved M. do
Grrcesan. I'm as eure of it now as if
your heart were open before me and I
noukl look into its very depths. It all
iawns upon me now?the expression of
pour cold, steel-gray eyes when he
3howered pet name6 upon you or covered
your nanda with kisses, that terri?
ble look of indifference when he encircled
you with his arm, that calmness at
his corning and his going, that marble
composure the day the news came that
he had been challenged and must
fight. All, all, it all breaks upon
me with the hard, harsh glare
of reality after some delicious dream is
ended. No, you never loved M. de
Gressan, you have never loved any man,
or you would not have written me such
words. No one can jest at love who
bftS ev^irjelt its terrible <jignj.ty1_its aw-1
'}'i- - c'-s -> ' ' '
ess, its dread solemnity. *
can -well imagine a person smiling at
the news of the loss of a fortune, I car?
even conceive of a dying person being
so frivolous as to push the holy sacrament
aside with ribald epithet, but I
oannot imagine a woman who has ever
truly loved a man as jesting over the
pang of a si6ter. No, Blanche, like the
eyeless fish of the black waters of some
subterranean lake, the glory of the sunshine
is lost upon you! I love you still,
dear Blanche. I always shall love you,
but you're not the woman I stand in
need of just at present. Many thanks
for the suggestion, but I never carry
copper coin in my portemonnaie.
LETTEK NO. 7.
SAME TO SiilE.
Well, dear Blanche, it's all settled,
and eettled, I believe, by a gracious and
all-wise Providence; which takes far
more interest in the affairs of this world
than such scoffers as you are would fain
admit. Now that it is all history. I'll
play the historian and give you a plain
recital without word or comment. You
no doubt remember ray telling you of
the genuine friendship which sprang up
between Cagimir and Rene. The more
they saw of each other the more they
liked each other, and would you believe
it, I was often obliged to send a servant
the second time to call them when I was
waiting for their escort, so fond did they
become of each other's society. One
morning, to my great surprise, Casimir
didn't make his appearance, although
the post brought both of us letters.
\Vhen I say both of us I mean that there
was a letter for Rene, too, as he and
Casimir were to go hunting that afternoon.
The day was chilly, and there was a
fire burning on the hearth. Rene was
standinc leaning on .the mantel when
the servant handed him Casimir's letter.
I took no note of him I was so
eagerly deciphering my letter from
Casimir, who, by the way, writes awful
T'h/i lnftor wns vf?rv t-AflflPTV
A sudden business engagement had
interfered to prevent his corning. It
was full of those 6weet nothings which
a woman so loves to get from the man
who is dear to her. I wanted to press
it to my lips, but I was ashamed?no,
unwilling to hurt Rene's feelings so
needlessly. But suddenly, as I glanced
at him, I was startled by the change
that had taken place in his face. It was
as if his old ailment had come back
upon him, and I thought it had. He
was deathly pale, and his hands trembled
as he tore up Casimir's letter and
threw it into the lire.
"Rene!" I exclaimed, springing toward
him, "you're ill. Let me call one
of the servants."
"No, no, cousin," he stammered; "it's
absolutely nothing. I'll be better in a
moment. Come to think, I'll go and
take some of my medicine and join you
The moment the door dosed behind
him a strange chill came over me. I
stepped toward the fire. There lay
Casimir's note, only half burned. An
irresistible impulse prompted me to
stoop and pick it up. "What remained
uncharred read as follows:
"Old Chappie: You and?cruel indeed
Knf non't rp.
~"1?ill I tJUUCU L KJ anctiiivuit, uuw vu.? w - w
fuse you?keep seat?beside the divine
As I read the words the cold perspiration
started out on my brow, my limbs
bent under me; I came near falling.
"Great heavens," I whispered, "can it
be possible that Casimir is decoying
Rqne to Paris? Oh, no, that would be
too terrible; it must be that in his haste
he has pyt the wrong letter in the envelope
addressed to Rene."
Rene now made his appearance quit?
himself again. I thrust the remnants
of the letter into my pocket and we
went out for a ride. Once in the open
air his gayety and good humor came
back to him. Once or twice I turned
the conversation to Casirnir's failure tc
keep his engagement.
"Oh, cousin," said he, "it's of no importance;
we shall have him to-morrow.
After dinner we all strolled out on
the terrace, but after half an hour or so
mamma and aunt complained of the dew
and went in. Rene and I were left
alone. The night was wonderously
beautiful. We talked of many things.
In stooping to pitk up my fan his face
came so close to mine that I f.elt the
warmth of his breath on my cheek. Our
hands touched. It seemed as if the
world was slipping away beneath me;
that terrible letter burned upon my inward
sight in letters of fire. I clung to
Rene's hand as if I were drowning and
it were held out to mo.
"Rene," I whispered, "Rene, you rejoin
your regiment next week; we may
never see each other again. Have you
nothing to say to mc?"
"Yes, yes. cousin,'r he replied, speaking
with great difficulty. "Casimir will
make you very happy. God bless you
both!" And springing up, he seized me
bv the hand and dragged me toward the
The next morning mamina came to
my room before I was dressed. She
was greatly agitated.
"My darling," she fairly gasped, "I
have sent a messenger to M. de Villelong
requesting hirn to discontinue hia
"Discontinue his visits?" I exclaimed
in mock surprise.
"Yes, my child," she continued, "I
have positive evidence that he attended
a dinner given at the Cafe Anglais last
night to that infamous Gioja."
letter no. 8.
CAFIUTR TO KFiOt. (Three months later.)
Dear Ren;<: Itwts the best thing
for me to do. I felt that Adrienne loveci
you better than me, and I knew that yoi
were more worthy of her. Qotl blest
you, dear boy. I shall get well of th<
"hurt when I bear how happy you both
RATS AND MICE.
IluBBht Suffered From a Genuine Plague
Russia has suffered from a genuine plague
of rats and mice, and the story is attractively
told by United States Consul Heenan at
Odessa, in a report to the State Department.
The vermin first appeared in Southern
Russia in the autumn of 1893, and they increased
in number with marvelous rapidity
I owing to heavy grain harvests leaving mucb
| unthrashed grain, ami to the mild weather
In addition to the common house and Hok
mouse, another and new variety appeared
having a long, sharp nose. These mice over
ran every place, and they moved iu vasi
numbers like armies.and in instances did no
hesitate t<> attack men and animals. \Vhil<
the rats were not so numerous as the mice
they were mor? destructive, eating every
thing, gnawing away the woodwork, an<
v?n miiiincr entire buildings. Alter ex
haunting all other menus, the pla^Uf. wn
finallv terminated in 1801 by resort t>
bacteriology. when tbe vermin were ac
strayed by the inoculation of a few rodent;
with contagious disease germs.
Michigan Land Ten Cents an Acre.
Under the recent land tax law of Michigan
all lands held by the State for three years toi
non-payment of taxes are now subject to
homestead entry. A homesteader can tnko
up'240 acres by paying ten cent* an aero for
! Horset Cheap In the East.
Horses are cheap in the East just now, as
well as in the We3t. A fairly pood horse was
sold at auction at Bethel, Vt., a few days ago
for 82. A perfectly sound three-year-old
colt, of good size, was sold in the same place
f for 812.50.
Pale is the February sky,
And brief the day-time's sunny hours;
The wind-swept forest seems to sigh
For the sweet months of birds and flower
Yet hath no month a prouder day,
Not even when the summer broods
O'er meadows in their fresh array
Or autumn tints the glowing woods.
For this chill seison now again
Brings, in its annual round, the morn,
When, greatest of the sons of men,
The immortal Washington was born.
Episodes Id the Life of the Father <
ALMOST A BRITISH JACK TAR.
The Washington family held th
theories of primogeniture, which th
Virginian gentry haa brought froi
old England, and George as ayoungc
son had hiB own way to make in th
At fourteen George was shy an
awkward, but big and strong. Feopl
began life early in those days, and th
Widow Washington suggested t
Laurence, her 6tepson and the head c
the house, to see if his father-in-law
Colonel Fairfax, couldn't suggest some
thing for George.
Fairfax and Laurence Washingto
. ntrrppd that, the British Navv was th
place for a strong lad with the mil:
tary instinct, and to the British Nav
he might have gone, and become th
enemy rather than the deliverer of hi
Jnst about this time Tom Fairfai
Colonel Fairfax's son, fell on H. M. S
Harwich, during a fight withaFrenc
squadron commanded by M. de Bou]
donaye on the coast of India Thi
was 1745, the year of the "rising" i
Tom Fairfax was only twenty-one
and the pet of the Washington an
Fairfax families. Mrs. Washingto
then began to think that the navy wa
not quite the place for her George
Her brother, Joseph Ball, also wrot
to dissuade her, saying that the bo
would better be apprenticed to a trad
than sent before the mast, where h
might be "pressed" from one ship t
another, ''cut and beaten like
1 negro," and where promotion coul
only be obtained by influence.
It was at this juncture that the nixt
Lord Fairfax, whether crossed in lov
I or for whatever reason, came to liv
in Virginia, and, as a distant relativ
of the family, took an interest i
George and solved the question of hi
future by making the boy his sui
veyor, friend and companion.
The pleasure shown by the old coui
tier in the young lad's society bid
one think that George mast have ha
an old head 011 younj? shoulders.
AS A COLONEL.
In 1760 Captain George Merce
wrote to a friend a description of tb
personal appearance of "Colon*
George Washington, late Command?
of the Virginia Provincial troops,
which ran as follows: "He may b
described as being straight as a
Indian, measuring six feet two inche
in his stockings, and weighing 17
i pounds. His frame is padded wit
1 well developed muscles, indicatin
1 great strength. His bones and join!
1 are large, as are his feet and handi
He is wide shouldered, but has not
deep or round che6t; if neat waistec
but is broad across the hip9, and he
rather long legs and arms. His hea
is well shaped, though not large, bn
is gracefully poised on a superb necli
A large and straight, rather than
prominent nose, blue-gray penetratin
eyes, which are widely separated, an
overhung by a heavy brow. His fac
is long rather than Jjroad, with higt
round cheek bones, and terminates i
a good firm chin. He has a cles
though rather a colorless pale skii
which burns with the sun. A pleasim
benevolent though a commandin
countenance, dark brown hair, whic
l.o wears in a queue. His mouth
large and generally firmly closed, br
which from time to time disclosi
some defective teeth. His featur<
are regular and placed with all tt
muscles of his face under perfect coi
trol, though flexible, and expressi\
of deep feeling when moved t
, emotions. In conversation he lool
, you full in the face, is deliberat
deferential and engaging. His voi<
is agreeable rather than strong. H
demeanor at all times composed ac
1 dignified. His movements ar
gestures are graceful, his walk m
jestio, and he is a splendid horseman.
i HiS LOVE AFFAIRS.
: It was fated that Washington, lit
Napoleon, was to be the victim i
more than one disappointment in lov
i Every one knows how attentive 1
was toJMary Phillipse, of the good, o
' Westchester family whose house
I tt e tr _i j
5 now tne <Jlcy nail 01 aonaers, uurii.
j a stay in New York, but there was
! Virginian love affair considerably ea
His first love was the charming Se
ly Oary, one of that aristocratic Vi
ginia family of Carys, of which Mr
Burton Harrison (Constance Cary)
in our day a member. To her 1
wrote love poems, anonymous, print<
in the Virginia Gazette, and othi
love poems, not anonymous, sent
- her in manuscript. These rhymes d
scribed his "poor, restless hear
pierc'd by Cupid's dart," and mat
| use of the other rhymes of "dove
, "love," and "above," not unfamili;
> in every age. With her, too, 1
j danced at the festivals of St. Tamm
ny, the titular saint of the Colonic
- But Miss Cary would not listen
1 the suit of the long-legged frontier
^ man, and married instead his deare
t friend and woods companion, Geor;
- William Fairfax, and went to live
1 Belvoir, the Fairfax seat. When pre
s ty Sally Fairfax died in Englan
years afterward, her Virginian hei
* found some of Washington's love It
* ters, and these have been kept unpu
listiecl ever since.
Until the war, however^ Mrs. Sal
and her husband continued to live
1 the Colonies. Five years after Was
| ington's courtship of her, when he bi
become famous iu frontier warfar
he met at Mr. Chamberlayne'fl hou
on the Pamunkey Kiver, the Wide
Custis, whom he afterward married.
Of course, the Pelvoir ladies saw
groat deal ol' tho mistress of Mou
Vernon, r.cd Virginia gossip, whi<
takes the harmless form of traditio.
e Central picture, portrait by Gilbe:
? 2. Mount Vernon portrait by Peale.
by Joseph Wright.
has it that Mistress Martha Washington
never forgave Mistress Sally FairQ
fax for having been her husband's first
;e sweetheart. She was intensely human,
'* was Mistress Martha.
is < his stetchtldren.
Like Napoleon, Washington had two
stepchildren, a ooy and a gir], and, as
in Napoleon's case, the love between
h him and them was as cIobo and warm
- as if he had been their lather in the
n As Eugene de Beaaharnais became
Napoleon's aid, young John Parke
N Custis served Washington in a like cart
pacity. At the siege of Yorktown
n young Cnstis contracted camp fever,
s and died of it, at the age of twentyseven.
Young as he was, he left a
0 widow, Eleanor Calvert, a descendant
y of Lord Baltimore; a son, George
e Washington Parke Custis, a baby
e daughter, Nellie, who, with the boy,
o was adopted by Washington, and two
a elder daughters, Eliza and Martha,
d who beoame the wives of Thomas Law
and Thomas Peter. Four ohildren by
h a father of twenty-seven was not an
e extraordinary record in those days,
e Washington's other stepchild died
e even younger than the young Cnstis,
n whose death at Yorktown saddened
is the hour of victory. She was named
r- Martha for her mother, and ^died
young, in 1773.
' It thus happened that, after the
Is war's close left some opportvuity for
d domestic life, Washington had about
him no young people except his adopt
ed grandchildren, (J. W. f. ana JXeiiy
Custis. And the girl was easily his
10 Nelly Custis was a girl of singular
;1 grace and beauty, and would not have
>r needed the high position of her family
" to support her position as a belle
ie in Virginia. Hor face was mobile and
n expressive rather than regular, and,
S3 alone among the ladies of her day, her
5 portraits show her as a girl like those
h of to-day. She was thoroughly mo.1g
ern in appearance. She married Lawis
rence Lewis, Washington's favorite
a It may be noted, as a rather odd
I, fact, that Martha Cu6tis, Mra Washis
ington's granddaughter, named her
d three daughters Colombia, America
it and Britannia Wellington.
a HIS CURIOUS FALSE TEETH.
jj The peculiarly square and clumsy
,e look of Washington's jaw in the Stuart
| portrait and other late pictures of him
^ makes him look very unlike the plightfaced
and rather handsome man shown
j in his earlier portraits.
/ This curious appearance was due to
'* his false teeth.
The science of dentistry is only a
g hundred years old, and at the first
false teeth were not only very expen,Q
sive but extremely imperfect. The
-S /? . -> -1
lg Disi ueuutsi wiiu ever jjiotuvcu tu
('e America was Le Mair, a visitor with
the French army in the Revolution,
re though before that time jewelers had
made a few sets of false teeth, and, of
Cg course, physicians had extracted molars
whose usefulness was outlived,
g Washington's teeth were made by
John Greenwood, of New York, the
((j first American dentist, who carved a
1CI complete set of teeth out of sea-horse
a> ivory in 1790. The work of making
? the teeth occupied a long time, and
they were fastened into the mouth,
not by the familiar principle of suction,
but by a complicated and ingeni:?
ous arrangement of springs and bands
of steel, which partly filled the mouth
e* and made the lips bulge out, particularly
the lower one.
. The processes of dentistry improv18
ing somewhat, Greenwood made anIff
I - l\ fAn WooVi-frtorf nn in
c Otucr bCb KJL ICCbU 1U1 v* uuu?u0?vM ?
a 1795, and the portraits of him painted
r" after that year show rather less of the
grim appearance abont the lips which
"" characterizes the most familiar porr"
trait of the first President, though in
some of his portraits he is represent16
ed as he looked?with no teeth at all
in his mouth.
to A WEALTHY it as.
e- It is sometimes said that Washingt,
ton was in his day the richest Amerle
ican. It would be difficult to prove
," this, and doubtless the statement is an
fir exaggeration, such as the common
le country tale that Washington could
a- "gtand and jump twenty-two feet." It
is. is needless to say that no such record
to of his prowess in this line has come
s- down to us.
st It used also to be said that Washing?e
ton had once thrown a dollar across
at the Potomac. Mr. EvartB's witty comst
ment that "a dollar would go further
d. in those days, you know," is well rars
ft- Washington was not, however, the
b- man to throw away a dollar. He was
I *.,1 ,1 Tn
]J IU UI?tr, uaxcriui nuu mLbuuuivu<,
ly youth he was, and expected to remain,
in compartively poor as he was a younger
h- 6on, and the family followed the Engid
lieh cutoms of primogeniture?so fur,
e, at least, aE concerned the family estate,
se Mount Vernon, which was left to Lau>w
renco Washington. Lawrence died in
1752, and his infant daughter shortly
a afterward", leaving the estate to George,
at His marriage with the wealthy
;h widow of John Parke Custis brought
u, Lira more wealth, and his investments
/ - ^
? HISTORICAL PORTRAITS, j
rt Stuart. 1. Original atudy by Peale.
3. Portrait by Trumbull. 4. Portrait
I in Woaforn Ian dp vorn ftlsn slirAWfl fttld
Bat, thoagh an ezaot and capable
business man, Washington was no nig'
garcL He entertained lavishly. It
was by his advice that the largest room
in the White House was designed for
a state dining-room. Washington
never occupied the house, and his successors
have found the room much too
large, even for state dinners. The
dining-room in Mount Vernon, designed
by Washington/is also mueh
the largest in the house.
It is generally known that Washington
received no pay for his services in
the Bevolutioii. Congress voted him
$500 a month, but he never accepted
it, charging only his actual expenses.
WASHINGTON'S CABIN HOME.
His Humble Abode While Surveying *
the Wilderness for Lord Fairfax. *
Snnshine aud storm have been at
work upon it for generations, and yet
there are few baildinga that attract
the admirers of Washington that have
more of interest in them than the decaying
cabin, which stands alone in an
old pasture field a half mile from
Berrvville, in the beautiful Shenandoah
"Valley of Virginia.
The old cabin was the home of
Washington when he was a surveyor.
He oame here direct from the mater*
nal roof to begin the arduous and, at
that time, dangerous work of survey*
ing the lands of Thomas, Lord Fairfax,
who owned all the northern part
of Virginia under the King's patent;
the work was ardaous because of the
physical aspect of the country, then a
dense wilderness, and dangerous because
of the charaoter of the inhabitants,
who were principally Indians or
a hero's humble home.
scarcely less wild trappers or sqnatters
upon hi& Lordship's domain. Washington
had been selected by the old
nobleman because of his belief in the
youth's ability to cope with these elements,
and the yonng surveyor left
his home on the banks of the Potomac
early in 1748, just after toe completion
of his sixteenth year, his only
companion being George William
Fairfax, nephew of old Lord Thomas.
Whether these boys erected the building
or found it already in place history
does not state, but well-authenticated
tradition says that they built it
themselves. That they U3ed it for an
office, kept their instruments there
and slept in the upper room, there is
ample proof. Here, during all the
summer of 1748, when not actively
engaged in the field, they were busy
with their office work or in defining
bounds for the settlers.
The old hut has, in the memory oi
the preaent generation, done duty as
a "milk house1' for farmers. Of the
dense copse of trees which Howe says
shaded the spring, only a tall and
sturdy elm remains. On a hill not
far away is "Soldier's Rest," another
log cabin?itself of historic iutere6t
also, for in it lived Daniel Morgan,
the rough teamster who afterward be?
came Washington's right hand in the
War for Independence?Morgan, the
hero of Quebec and Saratoga, and the
man who destroyed Tarleton at the
Cowpens and checked the tide of
British victories. -Morgan was a conspicuous
iigure in all the rough-andtumble
fights that gave the little town
of Berr.yville the name of Bnttletown,
by which it was known for 100 years,
and after these encounters he would
go and sit on the rocks down by the
old Washington cabin while his wife
would bathe bis bruised and cut head
in the cooling waters of the spring,
I and bind up his bloody wounds.
I It seems almost a pity that this old
I hiu Bhould bo allowed to crumble
away in tho Virginia pasture Held
where it ha? stood for 145 years. The
great elm tree looks as if it was good
for a thousand years yet, while the
rock aud the spring will he there for
evermore, but sun and wind and rain
hare made sad ravages in the hut that
sheltered the youthful Washington.
The present owner of the cabin is G.
G. Calmes, of Berryville.?New York
More Ground lor Eulogy.
All hail to great George Washington,
Let's follow in his track.
Hr never was nor couldn t bo
? .. ?Washington Star.
SING SING SECRETS. 1
HYSTERIOU8 CODES BT WHICH I
Prison Officials Unable to Detect I
How Crlmloala Baffle tfte Silent I
System?TJie Fake Flglrt?"IJn- : '
<lerground" Telegraphy. I
TN the great gray stone strnctnre I
called Sing Sing there are always 1
I from 1500 to 2000 convicts, men
who have committed every known irime.
Thftsfi ata niok of thft
criminal population o? New York|j|
State. One-half of them are th?;^
product of New York City. There 4ure|V ' %
aovices among them, but the atmos* 4
phere there is so heavily charged witU- ^
the knowledge of experienced orime, .;
that before they leave the novices^vj
know nearly all the trioksof the craft.
Silence is supposed to reign supremo,;}#
in Sing Sing. A convict is forbidden '-%$
to converse with another. If his lips' 3$
move he is at once pounced upon- by
the watchful guard and placed in fioli- ..V
tary confinement. ' ^
Yet they do talk, and talk ofteot
too. But how they do it is a mystery
which the officials of every large prison
the world over would like to solve. In :'
Paris and in London, where the discipline,
perhaps, is even etrioter than in
Sing Sing, the convicts have a system '
o! exchanging information. Keepers
who have been among convicts many 1 .
years have endeavored to discover the
triok, but without result.
Principal Keeper Connanghton has
been employed in Sing Sing for thirty ,
years. He went there a young man,
and now his hair is snow white. Ho
has won the friendship, such as it is,
of innumerable convicts, bnt great as
his experience and knowledge are, he
has never been able to fathom their .
system of commnnication. ' 't?
Not only do the convicts manage to '
exohange news, but they do' other
things. For instance, a man who had
been confined for twenty years, left '
the prison on his release whistling one
of the latest comio opera airs. How
he managed to piok r.p the tune and
retain the notes in his memory would
puzzle a Philadelphia lawyer.
If there were a Presidential election
to-day every convict in Sing Sing
would know who was elected the first
thing to-morrow morning, and just
how the different States stood. Every
important news event which happens ^
the world over they know about, yet
to read a newspaper or be oaught with
one is a serious offense. When a noted'
prisoner arrives, like a murderer
doomed to the death chair, every convict
knows all about it before the
clerk has finished taking his pedigree.
Yet the convicts are separated in ?
dozen large buildings. News travels
incredibly fast there and so silently
that the vigilance of the keepers
nonnts for nancht. It seems to soak
iD through the stone walls and make
its presence felt only to the tuifor*
It is not due to lack of vigilance y,
that the men are able to oommnnieate with
each other. The silent system is
enforced as carefully as it is possible
to enforce it in an institution where
the priseners are not kept in solitary
confinement. When the men are in ,
the workshops or in the yards they
are almost constantly under the eyes
of the guards. They march to and
from their work in the lock step, each
squad looking like a dirty gray caterpillar
as it swings -across.the yard and
each man in that squad facing the
same way. There is not an instant
when tbe men are unwatched, and it
is difficult to explain how they communicate.
Of course some of thfr
tricks have been discovered, bat these
are only resorted to when particular v,
convicts wish to converse.
The fake fight is a common triok.
Two convicts without a word of warning
will spring at each other like en-'
raged tigers aud clutching one another
around the neck will role over the
ground in a perfect frenzy of rage.
Blows and kicks will be dealt with
terrific force, but all the time
valuable words will be exchanged.
Genuine fights of this kind are oommon
occurrence, and so faithfully are the
fake fights carried ont that it is difficult
to distinguish the false from the
real. Criminals who were bitter *
enemies in the outside world often
meet for the first time within the eonfines
of Sing Sing, and when they
come together a fierce, if short, fight
is bound to come ofi. That accounts
for the number of genuine fights.
Criminal lawyers, who. perhaps,
kngw as much about' convicts as. if
not more than, the prison officials
themselves, say that they do have a
number of well recognized codes of
communication. One of the best ,
known methods of this kind consists
of a series of raps corresponding to
Ihe Morse telegraphic code. If a prisoner
urderstands telegraphy, he may
transmit mestages to another prisoner
who is aho a telegrapher by rapping
out the Morse code in his cell, or in
workshop or messroom, without very
much fear of detection.
In some of the carelessly constructed
prisons it has been discovered that
the convvicts have used the water
pipe to construct a series of speaking
tubes, and in several cases they have
successfully planned cscapcs in this
The system by which prisoners communicate
with friends on the outside
is also a mystery which prison officials
would he glad to fathom. In prison
pftrlance, it is known as the "underground."
The convict6are allowed to
write home once a month, but each
letter is tirst read by the prison chaplain.
If there is anything improper
in it, the letter is^-ithheld. But the
improper letters never go out by way
of the chaplain. . The "underground"
system takes care of them.
Criminals in Sing Sing have been
known to conduct a scries of successlul
crimes by communicating with
accompliccs on th?i outside. Bribing I
the underkcepers would be one way, I
- *? ? 1 I
but tne system JS lUU gcuciuj iu ua |
worked in that fashion. Escapes are
always planned and carried out
through the underground method.? ?
New Orleans Picaynue.
Quite a profitable business is clone
in some large towns by lending turtles
to restaurants. Tbev are permitteil to
remain in the winduws for a few days,
and are then taken to different parta
of the town as advertisements for other
eating houses.? Loudon Sketch.