Supply and Demand

1895

As a rule, the relic seeker does a great deal of damage to historical sites and places of interest, but it seems that it is sometimes possible to meet his demand without doing any harm.

A Washington paper says that recently, as a lady who had been standing before the tomb of the Father of His Country at Mount Vernon turned to go away, she stooped furtively and picked up a pebble. she intended to carry it away with her. Perhaps the foot of Washington had pressed this very pebble. As she started away she saw a workman approach with a wheelbarrow load of gravel, which he proceeded to dump on the very spot.

"Did you — have you fixed up this place that way recently?" the lady asked the workman.

"Bless you, miss," answered the man, "we have to do this about every two weeks, so's the tourists can have something to carry away for momentums!"

George Washington's Love Affairs

He Was Not a Success with Ladies, Till He Met the Widow Custis

In a paper recently read by Chauncey M. Depew in New York, at the reception of the Original Society of Colonial Dames of America, the following account is noted of Washington's social life:

Washington was intensely human as he was supremely great. He loved women, he was fond of sport, he was a great hunter, he was the best horseman of his age, he delighted in balls and parties and was a gallant dancer, he traveled hundreds of miles to witness a trial of speed between famous horses, and in common with the universal habit of his time took his chances in the lottery. While never a drunkard or intemperate in any way, he was a free liver and a generous and jovial host. He seems to have been unhappy in his earlier love scrapes. He was 6 feet 2 inches high, straight as an arrow, perfectly formed, except that he had phenomenally large hands and feet, and his face was pockmarked with the smallpox which he caught at the Barbadoes. The Colonial girl flirted recklessly with him, but never seemed to fall in love with him. He writes to one of his correspondents a letter from Lord Fairfax's, in which he says:

"My place of residence is at present at his lordship's, where I might, were my heart disengaged, pass my time very pleasantly, as there is a very agreeable young lady lives in the same house, but as that is only adding fuel to the fire, it makes me the more uneasy, for by often and unavoidably being in company with her revives my former passion for your lowland beauty, whereas were I to live more retired from young women I might in some measure alleviate my sorrows by burying that which is a troublesome passion in the grave of oblivion or eternal forgetfulness, for, as I am very well assured, that is the only antidote or remedy that I shall be relieved by or only recess that can administer any cure or help to me."

Who was this "lowland beauty?" is a mooted question which probably can never be decided. It has been discovered that he paid earnest attention to and his heart was deeply touched by Lucy Grymes, Mary Bland, Betsy Fauntleroy and Alice Fairfax. Of all these he was absorbed in and devoted to Betsy Fauntleroy. He worshiped at her shrine for several years, until a rival carried her off.

Washington was the most industrious of correspondents, and in his letters revealed his most secret passions and desires. But, though we know how tenderly he loved and how long he grieved over the loss of Betsy Fauntleroy, we are still in doubt as to who was the lowland beauty who seemed to take possession of his heart as soon as the charmer of the house was driven or retired from its portals.

Alas for Betsy. She failed to forecast the future, and as the wife of a Virginia planter lived to see her rejected lover become the greatest man of that or any other age. Washington became more popular with the ladies after his return from Braddock's defeat and the massacre. In that battle he had two horses shot under him, and four bullets through his uniform, and had held his Virginia regiment steady when the veteran red-coated British soldiers had all run away. When he returned, the hero of the hour, every Virginia house sent invitations to the gallant young soldier to come and visit. He was here and there, and everywhere, but his heart was mortgaged beyond redemption to the proud beauty who would not smile upon him. One of these letters of welcome to him is from the Fairfax home. Three young ladies in the house party, write him this letter, which shows his new-born popularity from Braddock's bloody field:

"Dear Sir — After thanking heaven for your safe return. I must accuse you of great unkindness in refusing us the pleasure of seeing you this night. I do assure you that nothing but our being satisfied that our company would be disagreeable should prevent us from trying if our legs would not carry us to Mount Vernon this night. But if you will not come to us to-morrow morning very early, we shall be at Mount Vernon. Sally Fairfax, Ann Spearing, Elizabeth Dent."

From the home of the Randolphs came another invitation, closing with the message that "Mrs. Cary and Miss Randolph join in wishing you that sort of glory which will most endear you to the fair sex."

In order to settle the question of the regularity of his commission as Colonel, Washington made a journey to Boston. Beverly Robinson, a Virginian, had married Susana Phillips, a daughter of Frederick Phillips, the patron of the great manor by the Croton. Robinson entertained his friend, now famous because of his gallantry at Fort Duquesne, at his house, and induced his wife to have her sister, Mary Phillips, as a guest at the same time. Here Washington's susceptible heart was subject to an entirely different charm from the English ladies in the Barbadoes, or the lovely Virginians of his native state. It was the metropolitan girl — the New Yorker — as typical then as now — self-possessed, traveled, with the experience of several seasons in the society of the largest city of the country, familiar with the attention of British officers and titled fortune hunters, a beauty and an heiress. The type was new to Washington, and he fell madly in love. But the proud and finical New York belle saw too many of the woodsman and the Indian fighter to allure her from the refinements of the metropolis to the seclusion of plantation life, and so she gave her hand and heart to Lieut. Col. Roger Morris, to become, with her Tory husband, during the revolutionary war, a fugitive to England, while Washington, in the fortunes of revolution, made their house his headquarters during the campaign in New York.

Washington, however, two years after the Mary Phillips incident, met at a country house Mrs. Martha Dandridge Custis. She was a widow, 26 years of age, and seven months of sorrow. She not only belonged to one of the most distinguished families, but she was the wealthiest woman in the colony of Virginia. Her sorrow was alleviated by the presence of two little angel Custises, Jack and Nellie. Washington wrote to his physician before arriving at this country house in very bad health, that he considered himself a doomed man, and that he was expecting very soon his "decay." This was on March 5, 1758. But the sick man left this hospitable home at Williamsburg on April 1, entirely recovered in health and engaged to the beautiful widow. We know very little of Mrs. Washington except that she was petite, a brunette, very pretty, and could not spell. Washington destroyed all her letters to him on this account. Most of her letters which are in existence were written by Washington and copied by her. But she proved a good wife. She was a born lady and had all the high instincts of a thoroughbred. Jefferson and Madison and Hamilton, who had met her, all seemed to be impressed with her limited educational attainments, and equally impressed with her perfect good breeding. Washington never wandered in his affection for her, and always alluded to her as the partner of all his domestic enjoyments. They lived happily together for forty years. In his last illness he lay for four hours at night with that chill which killed him, because he would not wake his wife and have her get up in the cold. This consideration for her put him almost beyond help when morning came.

He was the most attentive of husbands. Fearing she might overwork herself with the multitude of guests that thronged Mount Vernon, he secured a housekeeper. He saved her the trouble of ordering her own clothes to a large extent. He was a martinet on appearances, and extremely particular, both as to his own clothes and as to hers. White satin and black velvet were his favorite materials for his own coats.

When Washington became General of the army, and the army went into winter quarters this good woman made the long and perilous journeys from her home in Mount Vernon and spent every winter in camp with her husband. At Valley Forge they lived in a hut. She not only looked after him, but presided with grace and dignity at the headquarters table, where his staff and every general officer were welcomed every day. By her kindness and attention to the sick soldiers she did much to prevent the discontent of the army under the great hardships which they endured, and to alleviate the sufferings of the ill and wounded. Both she and the General were passionately fond of dancing, During the war, at winter headquarters, they arranged assemblies on the subscription pattern, the same as those of Delmonico's, Waldorf and Sherry's, and they were called "assemblies." They had especially notable assemblies at Germantown, at Morristown and at Philadelphia. The Washingtons always arranged a winter assembly at Alexandria for the families of the country. Mrs. Washington did not care much for these festivities, but she sacrificed herself because these parties relieved her husband from the tremendous strain to which he was subject both as General of the armies during the revolution and as President of the United States during the formative period of the republic. It was not uncommon for Washington at these assemblies to dance from 10 o'clock until daylight. He was impartial, and tried to secure each lady in the room for a partner.

New Stanza Written for "My Country 'Tis of Thee"

1889

An Additional Stanza Added to the Hymn By the Author.

CHICAGO, April 29. — The Daily News to-morrow will publish for the first time, an additional stanza to the hymn "My Country 'Tis of Thee." The author of the hymn, Rev. S. F. Smith, has written the new stanza for the Daily News in honor of the national anniversary celebrated to-morrow. He calls it the "Centenary Stanza," and hopes to have it sung before it is a day old at a number of the churches and mass meetings here to-morrow. The lines are as follows:

"Our joyful hosts to-day
Their grateful tribute pay
Happy and free —
After our toils and fears,
After our blood and tears —
Strong with our hundred years —
O Lord, to Thee."

—The Pittsburgh Post, Pittsburgh, PA, April 30, 1889, p. 1.

Note: April 30, 1889 was the 100th anniversary of George Washington's inauguration.

Out of the Ordinary: Sundials and Washington Elms

1903

Herbert Spencer has for years turned out an average of 330 words of revised manuscript per day.

The city of New York has a considerable amount of property which it rents to private tenants, but it is also a tenant under 403 leases, which cost annually for rent $817,000.

A writer in Charities places the number of crippled children who applied for relief at the New York hospitals during the visit of Dr. Lorenz at 8,000, nearly all of whom were sent away because of the inadequacy of the hospitals for their care.

P. S. Devine of St. Louis owns a sundial made by Thomas Jefferson. The authenticity of the relic is attested by documents duly sworn to. In order to tell the correct time the dial must be set by the north star.

Buffalo physicians, in an operation the other day, took out of the patient's stomach nearly 500 tacks, knife blades and nails. That stomach must have been used to hard wear.

An insurance company in New York has just paid $100,000 for a five-foot strip of land, in order to keep the windows of its building from being closed up by another structure. The phrase "free as air" is not of universal application.

Lawrence McAlpin of Philadelphia has just celebrated his 100th birthday. He was born in Ireland and laid the first rail on the Madison & Indianapolis railroad. He has had 17 children. He lost track of four of them — two sons and two daughters — several years ago, but thinks they are now living in Canada.

A curious recognition of the right of women to hold public office has, with little gallantry, been made in Pike county, Pennsylvania. Porter township has so few voters that Mrs. Sarah Miller was placed on the Democratic ticket for school director, there being no other available candidate, one Democrat being the nominee for three local offices.

Congressman Heatwole of Minnesota is a continual cause of envy among colleagues whose digestion is not of pristine vigor. The Minnesota man attacks and assimilates all sorts of incongruous feeds. The other afternoon his luncheon in the house restaurant consisted of a milk punch, a chicken sandwich, an oyster stew, a piece of custard pie and two cups of coffee.

In compliance with appeals from many patriotic citizens of Hartford, Conn., Philip Hansling. Jr., superintendent of streets, consented to forego his determination to cut down "the Washington elm," opposite the Wadsworth athenaeum on Main street, that city. He trimmed the overhanging limbs, which might fall during a gale and do injury to persons or property, and gave the chance to the old tree to add a few years to its history. There is a tablet on the trunk of the tree placed there by the Daughters of the American Revolution in memory of the time when Washington visited Hartford and stopped beneath the tree.

The Dream Came True – Story of George Washington

1916

But Washington Warned "Light Horse Harry" to Dream No More

The relations that existed between General Washington and his younger friend, "Light Horse Harry" Lee — the father of General Robert E. Lee — were exceedingly close and tender. It is an authentic tradition in the Lee family that Washington regarded the brilliant young cavalry officer almost in the light of a son.

Lee was inclined to be a spendthrift and his lavish use of money often brought on him the paternal reproof of his older and more discreet friend — and the reproof was often followed by affectionate assistance in extricating him from his embarrassments.

Mrs. Washington was almost equally fond of the young officer, who often made long visits at Mount Vernon. During one of his sojourns there, Harry Lee remarked to his host at the breakfast table:

"General, I had a singular dream last night, which I must tell you. I actually dreamed that you made me a present of your Westmoreland place."

The next day, at the dinner table, Harry Lee found under his plate a document — nothing less than a deed to him of the Westmoreland estate. For some moments, dazed with astonishment, he stared at his friend.

"Now, Harry," said Washington calmly, "take good care not to dream Mount Vernon away from me!"

—Stevens Point Daily Journal, Stevens Point, Wisconsin, July 29, 1916, page 3.

George Washington Meets Fast-Talking Modern Man

Anaconda, Montana, 1914--

Some Observations by the Wanderer

What would the immortal George Washington say if he came to Butte for a day?

The dapper young swell would greet him, of course, with a few remarks, and into his speech inject enough of the present day lingo to make the father of his country wonder what the world is coming to.

"Lo, old top; you look like the ready-cash gazabo come to pipe the gang. Now, for a starter, suppose you shoot your lamps at that across the pike -- isn't she a pippin?"

"Old top, lamps, pippin? I do not understand your language, sir."

"Now, what do you know about that? Wouldn't it crimp you? Forget it, bo, get wise, take my hunch and polish your peepers. I'll put you next to yourself. You sailed in to see dear old Butte, didn't you? Then take my wing and we'll trek over to the swellest cabaret you ever bumped into. Some doings over there, believe me."

"Believe you? Why, my good man, I cannot believe my ears, or" -- his gaze riveted on a wisp of modern femininity, garbed up to the minute -- "my eyes, either."

"Ah, what's the gag; hereto pipe the procesh, ain't you? You're handing me something but don't you do it, see? You need a gin ricky; or how would a flapdoodle kerplunk dingbat at the Dutchman's strike you? Your pipes hot? Come on over to the glassy mahogany and we'll look at Reuben. No? How'd a trolley down to the place where they give a correct imitation of the hesitation and the bunny hug hit you? Can you fall for the dance? Looking for a joy ride? Name your choice and I'll dig; let's paint the old burg a lurid carinine, eh? Get me?"

"How strange it all seems. Would that my sleep had not been disturbed by the Mexican silence at Washington."

"Come out of it, old scout; you haven't sized up this dump yet. There's peaches and cream all over town. Take my steer and don't let any good thing get by."

"Farewell, my country; again, farewell my countrymen. This is not my counter -- these are not my countrymen. By heck, where am I at?"
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The old-fashioned man who established a checken ranch that his heir might enjoy the fruits thereof has a son who is doing his best to keep tab on the chickens.
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The average man who comes to see the sights of the town usually obtains his first impressions in the big mirror behind the mahogany.
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A new suit of clothes, a shine, a shave, a hat with the bow behind and a $10 bill have made millionaires out of many hard-working men.
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The apple of mother's eye sometimes develops into a pippin; often is regarded as a winesap; sometimes as a wealthy, but more than ever, as the summer approaches, she swings into the early transparent species.
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Father used to black his boots with soot from the stove lid and mother, on Sundays put a little corn starch on her ruddy chin. Both used charcoal on their teeth and read the Bible and preferred each other's company on all occasions. This day brings forth sons and daughters who never open the family Bible, never both about father only when money is needed and never mention mother's name in society and prefer any other company to that of their parents.
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Sometimes it is a fact that the man who picks his teeth with his fork and wipes off his whiskers with his knife and uses his fingers to lift the flapjacks to his mouth and passes up the finger bowl can write a check for thousands and live in his own house.
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It has been written that he who hesitates loses. That's all at variance with fact today -- the one who can hesitation best wins the prettiest girl.
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The good fellow invites half a dozen up to the bar and throws up two of the biggest silver dollars he can find. He accompanies his wife to church and fishes around in his pocket for the smallest nickel to throw into the plate.
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The majority of residents of Anaconda are not aware of the fact that a railroad used to run from a point near Washoe park diagonally across lots to Sheep gulch, up to a great quarry from which many hundreds of carloads of building rock had been taken. Lime rock also was mined in that part of the gulch and there were lime kilns there, too. Only traces remain of that once important industry.
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A man who says he is a pioneer of Anaconda, having come here about 17 years ago, accompanied a real old-timer up Park avenue the other day. Passing the brick building across the alley west of the Montana hotel the old-timer said to his young old-time friend:

"That building was the first brick church in Anaconda, one of the very first churches built here, if not the first."

The 17-year old-timer looked up and down the sides of the brick house and then at the old-timer. "That right? That a church once?"

"Sure it was, built by the Rev. Mr. Stanley, a pioneer South Methodist minister."

"Well, I'll be -- I didn't know that."
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And John L. Sullivan visited Anaconda in the early '80s, in the heyday of his importance as a fistic expert. He drew an enormous crowd to the old skating rink down in First street, since named Commercial avenue.
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One sees a very large number of things in one day in Butte if one be inclined to observe things in passing. One can almost say that one sees some things that are not in sight, so much is there before one's eyes. So much may be seen now that could not be seen a month ago. Butte is a remarkable town in many remarkable respects. It grows, it keeps apace, as they say in suffragist meetings, it is in some respects ahead of itself, and it never looks back to see if the rest of the procession is coming.
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The observer notes a wonderful change in everything, including fashions, since last fall. Now they wear high hats and flat hats, whereas last fall they wore flat hats and high hats, only they were built on different lines last fall.
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The observing visitor also notes a radical change in man's apparel. Looking back 25 years ago the observer beholds a kindly old gentleman in the act of shooting a man wearing a thing called a coat that looks more like something that someone had thrown out of a window and which fell on something alive. Nowadays that thing is called a top coat and the man wears it without molestation -- for it is vogue.
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The whiskey is the same, the people are the same, the atmosphere is the same, the cigars are the same, the hotels are the same -- only some visitors imagine that because they are away form home they can stand more abuse than they can at home.

--The Anaconda Standard, Anaconda, Montana, March 22, 1914, page 4.