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of Greek and Roman life and single figures of women- life and campaigns in the Balkans being particularly Mr. Millet is as successful as in the treatment of Eng- noticeable for freshness and vividness in transcription, lish genre, and he has also won a reputation as a painter and marked by great truth of observation and artistic of portraits. Mr. Millet passes the winter season in feeling for the picturesque. New York, but lives the rest of the year in London and
William A. Coffin. at his charming home at Broadway in Worcestershire, where he has for neighbors Alma-Tadema, Alfred Par
Corrections with Regard to the Washington Family. sons, Sargent, and other Englishmen and Americans
MR. THOMAS M. GREEN of Danville, Kentucky, of note. He was born at Mattapoisett, Massachusetts, writes to correct two errors in the article on “ The and was graduated at Harvard in the class of 1869. Mother and Birthplace of Washington " in The Cen. He is vice-president of the National Academy of De
TURY for April, 1892. On page 833 it is stated that sign, a member of the Society of American Artists, of Augustine Washington died April 12, 1740, the writer the American Water Color Society, and of the Royal having supplied the last figure, which is obliterated in Institute of Painters of London. He obtained his art the entry in the family Bible, with a cipher. Mr. Green schooling at the Antwerp Academy, and received first, quotes from General Washington's letter to Sir Isaac class medals at the Antwerp exhibitions in 1873 and Heard to show that the correct date of Augustine 1874. A prize of $2500 was awarded to him at the Washington's death was April 12, 1743. Mr. Green American Art Association Exhibition in 1886 for the
says: picture, mentioned above, which is in the Union League Club, and at the Paris Exhibition of 1889 he received In a note at the bottom of page 832 referring to the a silver medal in the British section. Mr. Millet is godmother of General Washington, who held him in her
arms at the baptismal font, the statement is made that widely known as the brilliant war-correspondent of the the godmother, Mrs. Mildred Gregory, was an aunt of London “ Daily News” in the Russo-Turkish war, and the infant. She was the daughter of Lawrence Washingas a clever writer of fiction and descriptive articles. In ton, brother of Augustine. The word “brother" in the
note was evidently an inadvertence or a misprint. Lawthe field of illustration he has contributed to the mag
rence Washington was the father of Augustine and of azines a large number of excellent drawings, those of Mildred.
IN LIGHTER VEIN.
Lincoln's Goose Nest Home.
found the six-foot boy in the back yard lying on a board TEAR the graveyard where Lincoln's father and reading. The boy consented, and the man slept with
stepmother rest, seven miles south of Charleston, him that night. The boy was Abraham Lincoln, and Illinois, in a place then known as Goose Nest, the Lin. the other never tires of telling how he spent the night colns made their final settlement on removing from with the future President. Indiana. Here Abraham Lincoln assisted his father in Tarlton Miles, a veterinary surgeon of Charleston, “ getting settled,” as they called it. He helped him told me that he had seen Lincoln driving an ox-team build a log cabin, and cleared for him a patch of into town with cord-wood to sell. One night Lincoln ground, and when he saw him “under headway” in the was detained till late selling his wood. It grew dark, new country, bade him good-by and started north and “Abe” thought best not to attempt to drive home. afoot. He found employment not far from Spring. As the Miles homestead was just out of town toward the field, Illinois, where the active part of his early life was Lincoln cabin, Lincoln stopped there overnight. His spent. Though he did not linger long in the Goose entire outfit, in the way of wearing-apparel, consisted Nest cabin, he was there long enough to stamp his of homespun jeans trousers, knit “galluses," a linsey individuality on every heart for miles around, and shirt, and a straw hat. Miles's father sat up till midmany are the stories told of his sojourn among these night talking with Lincoln, and was amazed at the wispeople. It was my lot to be born and reared a few dom he displayed. miles from the early home of the Lincolns, and the in- I spent four years in Charleston, as salesman in a large cidents I shall relate were picked up in conversation dry-goods house there, and as most of the country folks with the old settlers about our neighborhood, all of whom traded at this store, I often enjoyed rare treats in the knew Lincoln well. I was shown a bridge he helped way of chats with the old settlers about “ Abe," as they to build, and many other relics of his boyhood days. loved to call him. As I measured off calico for them
One very old man told me that he once rode up to they measured off “yarns” for me. I said to one old Thomas Lincoln's cabin and inquired if he could spend settler, “ Did you ever have a hint of Lincolu's greatness the night there. He was informed that the house af- while he lived near you ? " “No," he said, as he took forded only two beds, and one of these belonged to a a chew of “Lincoln green,” “I never did. I had six son who was then at home; but if he would get boys, an'any one of 'em seemed as peart to me as Tom's the consent of this boy to take him in as a bedfellow, Abe did —'cept perhaps in book-readin'. He always did he could stay. The stranger dismounted, and soon take to that, an' on that account we uns uset to think he
would n't amount to much. You see, it war n't book
An Experience. readin' then, it war work, that counted. Now, talkin' about rail-splittin', any of my boys could beat Abe any
Tempo Moderato. day he lived, an'any one of 'em could run him a mid
I had a dream last night in which I seemed dlin’tight foot-race; an' thess why he should beat 'em
To see myself a man immortal deemed. in the big race for fame, I can tell."
My poems, lately placed upon the mart, “Uncle Johnny” Gordon is an odd character known Had gone straight home to every reader's heart, in Charleston as the “ Sassafras Man.” In the spring
And fairly falling o'er each other's feet, months he may be seen offering for sale neat little
Demanding copies, mortals thronged the street
Before the doors of him who had to sell bunches of sassafras root, which he has carefully gath
The dainty verses that I loved so well. ered, and which he declares is a “balm for all wounds."
Then, as I watched the scramble for my work, For "yarns" of the early days on Goose Nest prairie, An angel came and beckoned — with a smirk and for recollections of Thomas Lincoln, one has only “ Fitz- Alfred Massinger De Greene,” she said, to buy a bunch of sassafras, then make his wants known, Lift up your optics blue and look ahead.” and Uncle Johnny will supply them, heaped up and run
The which I did - for you must understand ning over. The quality of Gordon's recollections may
At all times I obey the soft command
Of angels, whether wingéd ones or those not be the best, but the quantity can't be questioned. Who here do lighten or increase our woes.
At the time the Lincolns settled at Goose Nest And as I looked I saw a wondrous sight Dan Needham was the champion wrestler in Cum- That dazzled, 't was so marvelously bright, berland County. This county joins Coles, the one in As well it might be, for the scroll of fame which the Lincolns lived. Needham had often been
Stood straight before my eyes, and there the name told that he would find his match in Tom Lincoln's boy
Sensation sweet! Sensation, oh, how blest !
Fitz-Alfred M. De Greene led all the rest. Abe, but he would boast that he could “fling him three best out of four any day he lived.” At last they met. It was at a house-raising on the Ambraw River.
Andante. “ Raisin's ” at that time brought “ neighbors " from many miles around, and I am told that at this one they I swooned with very joy, and then I woke came from as far south as Crawford County, more
As yonder church bells sounded forth the stroke than forty miles away. Thomas Lincoln came, and
I need not here unfold with him his boy Abe. After the work of the day, in
Just how I rose and dressed. The crisp and cold which Abe and Dan matched handspikes many times, Of winter lingered in the atmosphere, a “rassle" was suggested. At first Abe was unwilling Yet not for me could anything be drear. to measure arms with Dan, who was six feet sour and The while that dream of bliss did haunt my soul, as agile as a panther; but when Thomas Lincoln said, Life was all joy unmixed with tearful dole. “Abe, rassle 'im,'' Abe flung off his coat, and the two stood face to face. Four times they wrestled, and each
Allegretto. time Needham was thrown.
At the close of the fourth round the combatants But hist! What sound is that I seem to hear ? again stood face to face, Abe fushed but smiling, The postman's whistle breaks upon my ear. Dan trembling with anger. However, one glance A missive from my publisher he brings at the honest, good-natured face of his opponent
In confirmation of my dream flings cooled his rage, and, extending his rough palm, he said,
It through the open door.
Be quick to ope “Well, I 'll be —!” Ever after this they were warm
O trusty paper-knife, this envelope. friends. Needham survived Lincoln many years, and though he was a strong Democrat, he had nothing but good words for Abe. Several of his boys still live near
Allegro. the old homestead in Spring Point township, Cumberland County, Illinois. One daughter, the wife of W.
Egad, it must be true; a check falls out,
And here 's a statement of the sales, no doubt. P. Davis,-- a brother of the writer,-- resides on a farm near Roseland, Nebraska. Uncle Dan, as we called him, now sleeps in a quiet churchyard hidden away in
Crescendo Appassionato Presto. a deep forest. A braver heart never beat; and though his life was humble, I am sure that he did not lack for Let's see: one thousand copies printed, two a welcome into the Eternal City.
Hundred and sixty-seven for review,
Ye Gods! no less than seven thirty-one.
“ Inclosed find twenty cents in royalty -
Roll on, drear world, nor stop to think of me.
Edith M. Thomas.
John Kendrick Bangs.
A Stitch in Time Saves Nine.
Joe Jefferson, our Joe.
JOE JEFFERSON, our Joe Jeff.,
When first we knew your form,
You traveled round the country,
And took the barns by storm.
But now 't is hearts you hold, Jeff.
You took them long ago;
Joe Jefferson, our Joe.
Joe Jefferson, our own Joe,
We've followed you around; Just sniff and see how sweet their smell is.
But though a trifle old now Come, let us go, and in the fields
We yet in front are found.
And still beyond this stage, Jeff.,
We'll follow where you go,
And greet you when the curtain 's raised,
Joe Jefferson, our Joe!
Charles Henry Webb. No, no; I found this coat all torn.
Never Despair. You know, 't is Walter's smoking-jacket,
UNTO a great big magazine I took one sunny day And there's a button
A light and airy symphony, and I was greatly shocked To hear the editor in honeyed accents softly say,
“It is lovely, it is beautiful, but we are overstocked." Oh, forlorn
Then to another editor I took my symphony: Excuse! — a button! --- let it lack it!
He read it with a smile that showed his joy and hapThe rent was bad, but after all,
piness. Dear sister Jane, why should you sew it? “ It is just the thing for August, and I like it, but you see You 're not a servant at his call.
Our August number 's all made up and ready for the Besides, 't is odds he'll never know it.
press.” Come, drop the nasty thing and don Your dear old-fashioned muslin bonnet.
“I'll try again,” I shouted in my dire extremity,
As I took it to an editor who read it, all elate,
While he murmured, “It's delightful, oh, delightful, but, JANE.
We printed something similar in eighteen sixty. No; I must sew this button on.
eight.' I smiled a very wicked smile, and like the hand of fate
Came down upon that editor who called myode divine. At window, seeing COUSIN WALTER approaching. “ How could you, sir, have printed aught like this in
sixty-eight, Then go the while I work upon it.
When your magazine first saw the light in eighteen
sixty-nine ?" JANE.
The editor looked foolish, for he knew that he was Handing jacket to MAUD.
caught, And he chuckled, oh, he chuckled like the greatest
fiend alive; Well, if you will, I 'll run and dress. You see the tear 's already mended.
But like a worthy man he sent me from him rapture
fraught, Exit JANE and enter COUSIN WALTER.
With my fingers wound about a purple checklet for a five.
R. K. Munkittrick. COUSIN WALTER.
To an American Rab. After an admiring glance at MALD's occupation,
(FROM HIS FRIENDS.) Dear Maud 's an angel! I confess
Nor Byron's “ Boatswain nor the silken “Flush" I wonder why Jane 's more commended. Of England's laureled poetess; nor he
That watched by dying Ailie's bed to see
Of life's still sea - I say thou need'st not blush
With these to have compared thy pedigree,
Thy virtues, or thy beauties rare. For we
Know well thy Gordon line, thy sudden rush (IN 1892.)
O'er stubbled field, thy quivering nose low-bent,
Thy flag-like tail Aung wide; and well we know
And bless thy heart's perpetual overflow.
Horace S. Fiske,
THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.