r- n.wmr -i-- . j w m i mir wr
. . . . . . j
U til-MNE fMiaA-PATEIOTM I
Affl tfw-"'- 6 ,lgllt wasn,t Kod 011 the
((rvlWS uyf HNGTON AND rti3 rS&3Mvv.T afternoon In mind and all that one
Vtt, . rwJ wo y ,'5aaMBM'''"1 ''"SV A' 'jfY "ffi ' W pilgrim could make out of a book's
SgZ- " itf "Na Vfl M Iti tffl VJ tl,le' nbove which was written
IHr I of "Ivnnhoe." Isaac the JII7JL J UM 2 I, ""V
, 1 knows i't'ls thecUom ifflffljSSSfeT IXiJT;' "!-iT .tffll 1 1 I
pi;iiWPiiiili IS
1 w
cr, cpbho!"
SII1NGT0N.-Inthe novel
of "Ivnnlioe," Isaan the
Jew U'IIh the knifiht that
ho knows it is the cimtom
of the ChrlHtiaiiH to put on
pilgrims' garb and to walk
barefooted for miles to
worship dead men's bones.
There is something of a
sneer in Isaac's tone and
Ivanhne rebukes him with
a truly heroic, "Dlasphem-
I don't know how many
thousands of Americans go yearly to
Mount Vernon to pay a visit to the re
pository of a dead man's bones, but
the number is something enormous.
If George Washington never had
lived at Mount Vernon, never had vis
ited there, never hnd died there, and
had been hurled in the antipodes there
would be excuse enough for the visits
to the place of seventy times seven
the number of the pilgrims who go
yearly down the Potomac to stand on
the toweling hill nnd to look off down
the valley.
It Is with an utter shnmo that It
Is confessed that after four years'
residence lu Washington one man
Amorican born and with some lurk
ing prldo of patriotism In his make
up never until recently went to the
place where the father of his coun
try and the exponent of the American
school teacher's Ideal of truth lies
liurled.
Mount Vernon Is the ultimate ob
ject or the voyage down the Potomac.
There are other objects every paddle
wheel stroke of the way, for the hills
on either side are hills of rare beauty
crowned with trees that saw the rev
olution; and that In the fall are wear
ing the raiment which belongs to the
kings of the forest.
On the boat going down there was
a young Ocrmnn gentleman, who had
married ai American wifo. He was
much more interested In the beauty
of the Potomac's banks and in the
Mstory of the country beyond the
Imnks and in the llf0 history of
George Washington than was she.
The German asked his American wife
If George Washington was born at
Mount Vernon. siu. answered that
ne was; wnich he wasn't, not
many, miles. lie asked her
ntlinr muct?nio . i. .
iu i-urn anu every
One of which lint uitl. ,,..i.. .
, ' . " iiineeiir.irv .h
huh was a travel..,) a,, u
. nun i it ail
well-grounded belief that
her Ge
by
many
... ,. ---- ... ,v t.xv. -uxonM
km
1 1i.k-''"t.lolJ. Kf
V Jv lift "-t
..'.v.j v-rfw a i' Wii .t '.i'M.v wi.j .;.-. w
iniido answers.
girl. There Is a fairly
she met and enptitated
' " auimle lor
....... nyu..m (U0 itnine.
Some day. perhaps-vedy likely, n fact-she
wl I go back to her husband's land and will
isten to his telling f his American trip, and In
the enthusiasm of the nature which he made
manifest on the Potomac he will tell the "his
toric truths" concerning George Washington
Which he Jeamed from his American wife.
It may be that tome of the Germans who
know something of the life of the American gen
eral who was the friend and fellow soldier of
Steuben will come to think, as some Americans
have tome to think before this, that a little
American .history might he Included In the course
of study nf the average American girl, and that
not a dollar should be spent on her passage
money UxKumpe until she knows without stop
ping to think whether it was George Washington
or Abraham Lincoln who crossed the Delaware,
and who, something later, forced the surrender
of Cornwallis at Vorktown. This may seem to
1)0 a in:iUer that is beside the mark, but, while
the listener had none too thorough a knowledge
of American history, there were some things
paid on the boat plying down the Potomac that
if they had been said by an eighth-grado school
joy ought to have brought him a flogging.
Mount , Vernon has been written about by
pretty lier.rly everybody who has seen the place.
It hasn't fallen to the lot of everybody to see It
in the fall. It is a iw'-lo place, a fitting resting
ground for the first American.
It seldom falls to man's lot to Bee such he
roic trees. There is a giant oak which stands
Bcntlncl oyer the first burial place of Washing
ton. The body was removed from the base of
the oak about 7." years ago. It never should have
been removed.
It is said that Washington selected the place
where his body now lies and left instructions
that one day the change of sepulcher should be
made. The oak which guarded the first grave
must have been standing for three centuries.
Th view from the place is Inspiring enough to
er.kindle the eyes of a dead man. The view from
the new tomb is line In Its way, but It Is as noth
ing to the grand sweep of river, hilltops nnd for
ests which moves before the eye from the place
where Washington slept for 30 years.
Hundreds of visitors go to Mount Vernon
daily. They peer Into the tomb and then
straightway go to the house. There Is an Inter
est, of course, which must attach to any of the
belongings of Washington, but It seems to be a
legitimate matter of regret that of the thousands
who go to Mount Vernon the Interest In the mir
ror which Washington used when ho shaved nnd
lu the spoon with which he ate his porridge, if
lie ate porridge, Is far greater than lu the forest
trees under which he walked and In the garden
whose hedges of formal cut were planted with
his own hand.
Indoors at Mount Vernon everything Is dead;
outdoors everything Is alive. The forest and
garden are instinct with Washington; the con
tents of the house are as duBt.
There is a real Interest, however, In the
library of the old home. In the main the books
are simply copies ot those which were on the
shelves in Washington's time. The originals, as
I understand It, are In several libraries of the
country. There ore two originals, however,
which are open at the title page, so that If the
light be good, one may read Washington's name
written In his own band and the title of the book
word "Sentimental." The
wonder was, and the poor
light was responsible for Its remain
ing a wonder. If the father of his
country had not In his quiet hours
been reading "A Sentimental Jour
ney." If the gentle Martha had
peeped Into the pages and had re
proved George because of what she
saw there one can lmnglne his ready
answer that the book was written by
a holy priest of her own chosen
church.
The man with the megaphone on
the Washington "rubberneck" wag
ons tells his audience of passengers
as they roll by the Metropolitan club
house: "This Is the club of the nobs."
In another minute, as the big sight
seeing bus passes another clubhouse
tho megaphone man says: "And this
Is tho club of the cranks."
"Tho club of the cranks," as this In
formation howler calls It, is the Cos
mos club, nnd a most Interesting or
ganization it is. Its membership is com
posed of scientists, some physicians
nnd clergymen, a few lawyers and
newspaper men. The scientists are
two or three
In the great majority.
It costs a pretty penny to Join the Metropolitan
club and to pay tho dues and to live the life of
the organization. The initiation fee at the Cosmos
club is rather small, and the dues are light, but
there nro scores of members of the Metropolitan
club, "the club of the nobs," who willingly would
pay twice or thrico the Metropolitan's Initiation
fee and tho Metropolitan's dues if the expenditure
could gain them admission to the club where the
"cranks" foregather.
Kvery Monday flight Is .called "social night" at
the Cosmos club. Of course the clubhouse is open
at all times, but on Monday evening the members
make a special effort to be present and there Is
always a large gathering in the great, sweeping
rooms of the house where once lived Dolly Madi
son. They don't Intrude "shop" upon you in the
Cosmos club. The members are a genial body of
men and they have many guests from all parts of
the world. They And out what the guest likes to
talk about and then some one who knows the sub
ject is promptly Introduced to him. There are few
world subjects upon which you cannot get an
expert opinion In the Cosmos club.
The members, of course, have their hobble
and they ride them. In one corner of a room there
will bo an astronomical group, and there will be
another corner with a fluh group and another cor
ner with a bird group and another comer with, It
may be, a mushroom group. It Isn't all science,
however, lu tho Cosmos club. The members pla
billiards and pool and bridge, and they have a fine
time ot it generally and at no -great expense, foi
It is one ot the hard facts of earth that men de
voted to science have little money.. Learning
doesn't bring high pay In the market. '
By GEORGE T. PARDY
(Copyright, by W. Q. Chapaiau.)
It would bo a difficult matter to
say just what started the argument
between Alice Ray and her fiance,
Koland Everett. They simply differed
on a point of view, and as both were
self-willed, neither cared to admit be
ing in fault. '
"You are absurd, Koland," said the
girl, petulantly. "Just because I don't
agree with you, I'm to be accused of
selfishness and obstinacy. If anyone
is obstinate it certainly is yourself."
"Very likely," responded her lover,
dryly. "Perhaps we'd better not talk
of the matter any more."
The two young people were seated
have given each other a deadly wound
have insulted our love have tram
pled a holy thing In the dust."
The hours slipped by and at last
Alice aroused herself. She sat up,
feeling absently at the fourth linger
of her left hand. She started as sho
realized what she was looking for.
"Even my finger misses him," sho
whispered, with a pitiful smile.
Iiehlnd the house a narrow, w inding
path made its way between the apple
trees and past a yellow field of rye,
through a green wood, and over a
brook by a rustic bridge. Heyond that
point it wandered on, with many a
on the veranda of a country house, lovely turn, giving now and again an
charmingly embowered in creeping
vines and commanding a wide view
of tho Hudson river and the mighty
hills through which it winds. The
summer air was full of the fragrance
of new-mown hay, and the drowsy
murmur of insects lulled the ear,
while ever and anon a thrush by tho
brook rippled into mellow song.
Everything spoke of peace except tho
two In whoso hearts, by right, tho
perfecting glory of love should have
given the culminating touch, for they
were engaged. Yet it so happened
that a dispute, trilling in itself, had
become magnllied and embittered, aft
er the sad human way, until both the
man and girl were in a state where
any moment might bring forth some
act or word which the rest of their
lives would be spent regretting. Aft
er Roland's last remark there was si
lence for several minutes. He leaned
back In his chair and looked grimly
down at the river. While Alice, having
turned from him with a swift move
ment, stared nervously across the hills
and blinked tho tears from her eyes.
When she spoke It was with a meas
ured coldness which hid the hurried
beating of her heart.
"If we have only been engaged a
week, and have already found a topic
on which we must be silent for fear
of qua'rellng, I think there surely
must be something wrong."
"If you can say such a thing as
that, Alice, there surely Is," replied
her lover, hoarsely.
"Then then there's nothing to do
but " She stopped abruptly and
glanced at Roland. Rut ke still stared
She Started as She Realized
She Was Looking For.
What
at the river and scarcely seemed to
have heard her. She sprang to her
feet and an angry color dyed her
cheeks.
"I'm sorry I'vo been so slow to un
derstand you, Roland," sho exclaimed.
"It's evident we are not suited to each
other. Tho best we can do is Is to
forget we've ever been engaged."
Roland stood up and looked at her,
pale as sho was flushed. "Do you
mean our engagement is broken?" he
asked.
"Here Is your ring!" and she tore
it off and handed it to him.
"If your love for me cannot stand a
slight disagreement, Alice, doubtless
you ure right."
He looked at the ring and then put
it slowly in his pocket. Alice turned
away and began to arrange magazines
on a table. A moment or two passed.
Then Roland, without another word,
strode down the veranda steps and
mounting his horse, which stood
hitched at the foot, galloped off.
Alice listened to the beat ot the
hoofs until they died away. Then she
went slowly Into tho house and up to
her room. She felt as though she were
carrying a great weight, and almost
staggered as sho reached her door.
Tears blinded her as she entered.
The perfume of tho roses he had
brought her that morning sweetenod
the air. There stood his photograph,
manly, handsome, with tho siullu in
bis eyes that she knew so well.
"Roland, Koland, Roland!" she
sobbed nnd threw herself Into a big
arm-chair In a pnsslon of tears. "How
can it have happened? What was the
matter with us? You know I love you,
Roland yes, nnd I know you love
mo. And yet If we hnd hated each
other we couldn't have been more
cruel. Can't a love like ours cast out
misunderstanding and vanity and sel
fishness? I would die glndly if my
death could Bavo him from pain. And
yet I could not yield a worthless point
to him to him who is worth more
than the whole world to me. We did
sot mean what we said and yet we
chanting glimpse of the great river,
ntll, a mile or more farther, it joined
he highway. It had been the custom
of the lovers to meet at the little
bridge every evening, and then to
saunter along the path, and home by
a short cut across the golf links.
Alice knew that the hour when she
generally started for the trystlng
place was at haud, knew, hesitated,
and finally arose.
"He won't be there to-night," sho
murmured, "and I think my heart will
break; but I will ge I cannot stay
away."
The shadows were long under tho
apple trees as she walked out and
the robins fluted Joyously. The even
ing seemed too lovely to belong to
earth. Meant for heaven, it had some
how lost its way nnd dropped, by a
fortunate chance, on our world. Aa
Alice moved slowly along the fragrant
path, seeing In the sky the wonderful
ever changing shades of rose and
green and purple, hearing music from
a hundred happy birds, breathing the
balmy air, an indescribable peace en
tered her troubled heart. What though
anger and misunderstanding lay be
hind? She knew it was all right now.
Roland would be walling for her, wait
ing with a look of perfect comprehen
sion, and she would not even need to
speak. Dut speak she would, and as
she never had before to tell him how
deep, how great her love was, and
that never more should a shadow dar
ken it. Never, never! The birds sang
always more sweetly, and the wind
among the branches made tender har
monies that chimed with the love in
her heart.
And now she passed the yellow
grain, and now entered the woods, and
there, Indeed, midway on the bridge,
where the sun sent a mellow gleam
through the overarching branches,
stood her lover awaiting her. A wave
of happiness surged over her, taking
her breath for an Instant. Sho stopped
and then ran forward with hands out
stretched, calling in a voice low but
of piercing tenderness:
"My dearest, I knew that I should
find you I knew you would be here.
If you had not, I think I should have
died."
In a moment they were in each
other's arms, and at his kiss tho last
faint doubt or lingering veil of bit
terness, if any there was, passed ut
terly out of Alice's heart, and it
seemed to her that in that instant for
the first time she knew happiness
supreme, divine.
"Have you waited long, Roland?"
she asked.
"Not long, dear."
"And you forgive me?"
"The fault was as much mine aa
yours, Alice," he whispered. "And,
after all, there is nothing real except
our love."
With their arms about each other
they sauntered on down the path. Tho
dying radiance of the sun made a
glory about them, the trees whispered
and swayed over their heads, and it
seemed to Alice as though she scarce
ly touched tho ground. What indeed
was real beside their love? Theso
lovely thing3 about her these singing
birds and fragrant flowers and mur
muring leaves they were only a sort
of picture, a reflection of the happl-
ness In her heart. As long as this
beautiful happiness lasted and she
felt as though it could never end so
long too would this delightful, blos
soming world surround them. It must
always be glorious summer where
they two were!
How He Made a Cuddle.
A gentleman went Into a plpema
ker's shop with the Intention of see
ing tho method of making pipes. The
proprietor, who was a Scotchman, had
arrived from Edinburgh a few weeks
ago.
When the Phlladelphlan got In the
shop he found only a boy back of the
counter, so without more ado he thus
addressed him:
"Well, my callant, I'll give you a
quarter if you show mo how you
make your pipes."
"I canna mak' a peer, sir," replied
tho lad. "I ca' only mak' a cuddle."
"A cuddle! What's that, my hln
uey?"
"It's a short peep," replied the boy,
"sic us men and women smoke oot
on."
"I'll give you a quarter if you show
me how to make that."
"die's yer quarter furst," was the
reply.
The gentleman gave the boy the
quarter, and he took a long pipe and
broke a piece off it, saying:
"There, now sir, that is the way I
mak' cuddles." Philadelphia Times.
V
