HOME LIFE OF POET SAMUEL WOODWORTH The Author of the Old Oaken Bucket Loved Music. HE PLAYED THE FLUTE. Family Reminiscences by One of His Daughters In This City. HISTORY OF A FAMOUS PICTURE Lydla Reeder Woodworth.tho Poet's Gifted Wife, Died In San Francisco. Hov7 dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view ! The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew. The wide-spreading pond and the mill that stood by it. The bridge and the rock where the cataract fell; The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, And c'en the rude bucket that hung in the well— The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well. That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a treasure, For often at noon, when returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it, with hands that were slowing, And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell, Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness it rose from the well — The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, arose from the well. How sweet from the green mossy briir. to receive it, As poised on the curb it inclined to my lips ! Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it, The brightest that beauty or revelry sips. And now, far removed from the loved habitation, The tear of regret will intrusively swell, As fancy reverts to my father's plantation, And sighs for the bucket that hangs in the well— The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket that hangs in the well ! The "Old Oaken Bucket" story published j in yesterday's Call, and the sketch of the | mausoleum in Lone Mountain Cemetery, where the remains of the illustrious poet repose, attracted much more than passing notice. Many copies of the Call were sent to Eastern literary societies, and j many inquiries were made for further in- ■ formation on the subject. In Boston every effort has been made to ascertain the I whereabouts of the original manuscript of I the "Old Oaken Bucket." J. B. Harrison, in a two-column article in ' the Boston Transcript published some ' months since, said: "Last summer while in Scituate, in my j quest for public holdings in the shore towni of Massachusetts, I saw the well of ! the -Old Oaken Bucket,' the little old mil], the pond, and what is left of the 'deep tangled wiHwood,' and other ob- i jects mentioned in the celebrated poem, which more than all else that he ever wrote j or did has given fame to the name of Sam- i uol Woodworth. I drank of the water and ! found it sweet and cold, and learned that j many visitors come to see the well in sum- i mer. It seemed to me that it would be a i COPY Olf A SKETCH OP THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET HOMESTEAD MADE BY THE POET, SAMUEL WOODWORTH. good thing if the place could be marked in son.c simple and appropriate way and the well permanently preserved, and that to iind out what is known or may be learned regarding the author of the poem might be a means of interest ing the people of Massachusetts on these subjects. * » * An eminent artist painted a large picture called 'The Old Oaken Bucket' some years ago, which was on exhibition for awhile, but I do not re member where it is now. By some unex plainable ill fortune all his manuscript remains appear to have been lost. I hope somebody can find out more about the poet Woodworth than I have been able to learn." In September, 18a>, the Chicago Inter Ocean described the old homestead at Scituate and published some pleasing reminiscences of the place and the poet, but did not present the information so eagerly sought by a world of readers. Last evening Mrs. James S. Wetfcered of 2109 Pacific avenue accorded to the Call an interview. She is one of the. two sur viving children of the celebrated poet, but wbb only seven years old when her father died. Her recollections of the poet as an invalid in his study are quite distinct. She calls to mind many pleasant hours spent at the Pearl-street home in New York. He had previously lived on Duane street and there wrote the "Old Oaten Bucket," which had made him famous before he died. She throws much light on the great painting of the "Old Oaken"" Bucket," which the Boston Transcript mentioned as hav ing been exhibited '"some years ago." Mrs. Wethered said: " "The portrait which you see there of my father was painted by Jerome Thomas. " The picture was one of the lirst that the artist painted. My father . recognized in him the genius of an artist and encouraged him to paint. He" painted the original "Old Oaken Bucket" picture, which is now, as I believe, in England, but 1 cannot give you the name of the owner. It was painted about ISMS, and was exhibited in Boston and other leading cities. The exhibitors realized some $125,000 from its exhibition. In Bos ton it created great public interest. Many of those who saw it visited the old home stead and brought home bottles of water from the well. The picture, I am sure, went to England. "Now, as to the original manuscript of the 'Old Oaken Bucket,' which the Call is so anxious to locate, I believe it is also in England. As my recollection goes, my brother, Frederick A. "Woodworth, left all my father's manuscripts in the house of Charles Morris of Brooklyn, N. V., in 1865. This Morris was no relative to George P. Morris, who wrote the introduc- tion to one edition of my father's poems, and who spoke of my mother as 'a sug gestive body,' a term "which is not pleas ing to me. Our family never sold my father's papers, but I fancy that my brother, Frederick A. Woodworth, r.eij lected to examine them closely, and that 'The Old Oaken Bucket' was found among forgotten or cast-aside documents in the Morris house and sold by some one to an English purchaser. I have heard that the manuscript brought $5000. "My father," continued Mm. Wethered, "was a charming reader, and read Shakes peare to his children. He was also very fond of music, and played the flute, guitar and violin. "You ask Hbout my mother, at whose suggestion the 'Old Oaken Bucket' poem was written. Yes. she was an American girl, and her maiden name was Lydia Iteeder. The portrait of her which "vo'ti see there was painted by Giovanni Thomp son. The union of my father and mother was perfect in every respect They were one in thought and sentiment. She en couraged George P. Morris, who was a boy in my father's printing office, to write, as he manifested so great an ambition to be come a poet. He would write at home even ings, and she would correct his writings. My mother was an ideal blonde and had the most gorgeous blonde hair, which fell to her knees. At the age of (59 her hair was as luxuriant as ever, and there was not a semblance of gray in it. After my father's death she always wore a widow's cap. "My mother died in 1880, and a singular occurrence I will relate; I was in New York on my wedding trip when she died. One evening I linished some letters to go by the steamer to her and my brother Fred. 1 had just dozed on the lounge, when I was startled by the thought that my mother was dead. I said so aloud and my sister said, 'Nonsense, Mary, you are dreamirrg.' I felt so positive that 1 took one of the letters to Fred and wrote on'the envelope outside: 'I am sure that mother died this evening, 7 naming the hour, and placed ihe envelope in another one. Mv brother Fred secured it at the Union Club, and reading the outside inscription. turned and handing it to a companion, said, 'Am' I dream ing— read this.' Tne return mail brought me tidings that mv mother died the evening and the hour that I named in the envelope in New York. I am not a spiritualist and do not attempt to explain this as a coincidence or a vision. The last words she said before she died were: "Where is Mary? 1 want to tell her that I am going to her father." The remains of the beautiful and devoted wife of the poet rest with those oi her THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, THURSDAY, JUNE 20, 1895. illustriona husband in Lone Mountain Cemetery. The picture presented in the Call to-day is copied from a sketch of the "old home stead" at Scituatc, made by Samuel Wood worth. FREITAS DIVORCE SUIT. A Malicious Cross-Complaint Answered by the^Original Plain tiff. Mrs. Ada M. Freitas has filed an amended complaint through her attorneys, Delmas and Sbortridge and J. H. Long, to the answer and cross-complaint of her hus band. M. T. Freitas, to her original com plaint. The answer and cross-complaint of her husband, she claims, was cruel and unjust, and without any basis for the charge besides his own malice, accused her of unbecoming conduct and has thereby caused her great humiliation. She says the charges lie made in his cross-complaint are scandalous and entirely without foun dation, and charges that they are made merely for the purpose of injuring her reputation in the eyes of the public and with her friends. The former charges of cruelty which she brought against her husband are repeated in the amended complaint, and she prays for the same relief—divorce and $500 a month alimony and a distribution of the community property. EMPRESS FREDERICK AT HOME. She Is a Charming Woman, and Has a !'.» ■urn iti:l Home. I was absorbed in looking at the grace fully shaped chairs and couches, lovely carpets, the tapestry on the walls ana all the countless objects of interest which filled the spacious apartment, when sud denly, without a moment's warning from either official or attendant, the Empress, accompanied by her lady-in-waiting, ap proached. Her Majesty was attired in a well-fitting plain black dress, the material of which 1 could not quite determine, and a becoming garden hat of the same dark hue. 1 noticed that, save for earrings of smoked pearls, she was without any orna ment of jewelry, though 1 subsequently learned that when en gr&nde tcnuo her display of precious stones is something wonderful. 1 confess 1 should hardly have recognized our former Princess Royal from the port raits of her usually seen* in London, for she looked so much younger than they represent her. No sooner did she begin to converse than 1 was struck by a "certain likeness to the Prince of Wales, especially about the eyes when she smiled. The Empress' manner is charming; one instantly leela at ease in her presence; and her keen appreciation and quick under standing of all that she hears are instant ly apparent in the varrying and sympa thetic tones of her pleasant voice. At the termination of the interview I was permitted to see something of the castle before I left. The finely propor tioned dining-room particularly impressed me, with its splendid mantelpiece, over which was a bust of the lute Emperor, and the music gallery at the end of ihe room. The table happened to be laid ready for luncheon, and I had time to notice that its decorations — chiefly masses of roses in silver bowls— looked exquisite. Thence I was taken into a large apartment in which were glass cases all around the walls, filled with every kind of antique objects of art in metal, wood, ivory and china, such as one sees at South Ken sington. Tne great drawing-room pleased me im mensely—lighted by lofty windows over looking the terrace. Green tapestry cov ered the walls etc., of, 1 think, the Louis XV period, being arranged in groups, all in strict harmony with the architecture of the salon; while the fine center carpet of a predominant red color set off the uphol stery to perfection. I simply walked through the spacious library, but I could have spent a week there in closely examin ing pictures, medals, coins, rare engrav ings and her Majesty's selected collection of well-read books. I was then al'owed just to peep into the private rooms upstairs — the guest chambers — where I saw that no two chairs seemed to be exactly the same, either in shape or color. Her Imperial Majesty's boudoir and bedroom en suite looked south and commanded lovely views of the distant mountains. As I walked back to the station through the beautiful grounds I carried away with me a general "but confused recollection of room after room at Friedrichshof, each fur nished in different fashion, but everywhere some valuable example of the cabinet maker's art, or some priceless work of looms long since silent, and I shall never forget the sense of coolness in the wide cor ridors, in delicious contrast with the heat outside, and the prevailing sensation of order and English regularity. Friedrichs hof is by no means in an isolated position, standing aJoof in solitary grandeur from the rest of the world. There are charming villas dotted about the hillsides in every direction, and one very tine mansion is close to the grounds of the Schloss, though not inconveniently so. At the rear are the romantic-looking ranges of the Taunus Mountains, the scene of many a legend and tale of the past. In the nursery garden I had just time to glance at the hothouses, where a fine display of begonias and roses delighted me, and a special house where most tempting-looking peaches were flour ishing. — ht. James Gazette. His Services Sat Needed. I was standing at the end of the depot platform when a little old woman drove up with an ox harnessed to a cart, and, hand ing the rope lines to a little colored boy who was Loafing around, she came up the stej.s and asked : '"I)o yon own this yere railroad, sah?" "No, ma'am, I don't." "Is the critter around yerc who owns this yere railroad?" "There's a critter inside there, but I think he's only employed by the man who owns the road." "Stranger," she said, after looking me over, "will yo' back a lone wkkler to git justice?" "How back yon?" "This yere railroad has run over one o' my hogs and won't pay for him. I've come down to get six bits fur that hog or turn loose on somebody! I'll walk up to the critter inside and demand my money. He won't pay and I'll tackle him. Will yo' hack me to see a far fout?" "Why you are a woman, and shouldn't think of having a row with a man," I re plied. "Never yon mind about my bein' a woman, stranger! It's six bits or I tackle him, hut it'll help me along to know yo' ar' behind me. Will yo' do it, or see me git licked and lose my cash to boot?" I said J'd sei; fair play and went in her. She walked up to the station master, and spat on her hands and said; "Yo' know about that hog! It's six bits or I'll light on to yo' !" "Why, Mrs. Ramsay, I don't own the railroad !" lie protested. •'Six bits or a tackle!" she replied. "I'll send your claim up to headquarters to be acted on. 1 ' "Stranger, hold my sun bonnet, and don't let him gouge my eyes nor pull my ha'r!" she said, as she untied the strings Now then— " "Here's your six*bits," he said, as he handed out three quarters. "Thankee. Good money, is it? That squar's the hog an' thar' won't be no font. I just reckoned thar' was a way to git at a railroad, but I didn't exactly know how 'twas done. 9 ' I went out to see her into the cart and as she got seated siie extended her hand and said : "Stranger, I was p. lone widder and wanted backin' and vo' backed me. I ain't a woman as kin shed tears nor irit off big words, but my airnest wish is that the Lawd may dun hey mercy on yo'r soul— amen— g'lang, Sal!"— Detroit Free Press. An electric gun capable of fifing 700 to 1000 shots per minute, without the use of any other power than electricity, has been invented by A. S. Krotz of Springfield, Ohio. BY THE FORCE OF ARMS How the Knights of the Red Branch Propose to Free Ireland. WOLFE TONE ANNIVERSARY. Patriotic Speeches by Rev. Father McManr., Ex-Judge Cooney and Others. The one hundred and thirty-first, anni versary of the birth of "Wolfe Tone, the Irish patriot, was celebrated by the Knights of the Red Branch in an enthusi astic and patriotic manner last night at the hall of the order, corner of Mason and O'Farrell streets. Although all such occa sions have in the past been marked by the display of that warm spirit for which the sons of Erin are noted, that feeling seemed to bubble over last evening and the senti ments of love for the old country were unusually effusive. The main feature of the anniversary waa a banquet, the tables being spread in the large hall which had been appropriately decorated for tne occasion. Looking down upon the festal board was a life-size oil painting of the Irishman in honor of whose memory the affair was held. It was en twined with a festoon of ivy leaves. The banquet tables were loaded with stands of biossonis and evergreens, making a very pretty effect among the glittering array of cut glass and other adornments. Each guest wore a spray of green in his buttonhole. There were 200 guests. The menu cards were dainty affairs, in green, red and gold. W, B. Halligan, who is the president of the Knights of the Red Branch, opened the speechmaking by delivering an ad dress upon the welfare of the order. He referred to its principles of devotion to the interests of Ireland and its fixed determi nation to do everything possible toward treeing the Emerald Isle from the thrall dom of England's tyranny. The order is a strong one, and it was eager to receive into fellowship all true friends of Ireland. He hoped that the success of the past would be continued in the future, and that each and every mem ber would sec to it that every friend who did not belong to the order joined it. In the new movement that was to be inaugu rated ever3'think, if necessary, the issu ance of bonds to pay for needed improve ments. An adjournment was then taken to Irish-American Hall, at 8 o'clock, on next Monday night. An Interesting l'aby. She hfd a seat in a Michigan-.". venue car, with a baby on her lap and all bundled up in an old shawl. A woman next to her with two small children seemed to have con siderable curiosity about that baby, and after trying several times to get a sight of its face she said : "Haven't you got your child bundled up a good deal lor this weather?" "But I have to keep him warm, ma'am," was the reply. "For what reason?" "The doctor told me to." "Then the poor little thing is ailing?" "Just a little ailing, ma'am — just a little. He's got measles with the mumps atop of it, but the doctor says he's growing — " No one heard the rest of her words. There were four or live mothers and six or seve:i children in the car, and there was a stampede which took them all out and everybody else as well. When the car rolled on again the woman with the baby looked at the conductor inquiringly and asked: "Has anything broke clown or blown up or run off the track to scare 'em all out?" — Detroit Free Press. A self-propelling bicycle is a Swedish in vention. It is run by a little gasoline motor. 7t .^wt KNOWLEDGE Brings comfort and improvement and tends to personal enjoyment when I rightly used. The many, who live bet- ■ : ter than other 3 and enjoy life more, with I less expenditure, by more promptly ! adapting the world's best products to the needs of physical being, will attest \ the value to health of the pure liquid laxative principles embraced in the remedy, By rup of Figs. ,:.,"." 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Holders of above bonds who have subscribed ' to an agreement to exchange for the new issue of bonds by the same company are notified that the exchange will be made upon presentation at the Bank of California on and after the 20th of June. 1895. The Bank of California. TIIOS. BROWN, Cashier. 1000 LETTER HEADS $3.00. SEND FOR SAMPLES. PACIFIC PRINTING CO., 543 Clay Street, S. F. &ffo»&B«eTCbTA.Nso Bt DEWEY & CO~I 220 Market ST., 8. F., Cau I 5