If there are indeed five thousand Washingtons, and if they are proud of their descent, a good way for them to show it would be to contribute twenty-five cents each to be expended on putting Harewood in respectable condition.

The last member of the Washington family to own Mount Vernon was John Augustine Washington, of Charles Town, who sold the former home of his distinguished collateral ancestor.  This Mr. Washington was a Confederate officer in the Civil War.  He had a son named George, whose widow, if I mistake not, is the Mrs. George Washington of Charles Town, of whom I heard an amusing story.

With another Charles Town lady this Mrs. Washington went to the Columbian Exposition in Chicago, and the two attended the Fair together on Washington Day.  On this occasion Mrs. Washington made a purchase in one of the buildings, and ordered it sent to her home in Charles Town.

“What name?” asked the clerk.

“Mrs. George Washington.”

The clerk concluded that she was joking.

“I want your real name,” he insisted with a smile.

“But,” plaintively protested the gentle Mrs. Washington, “that is the only name I have!”

* * * * *

One of the most charming of the old houses in the neighborhood of Charles Town, and one of the few which is still occupied by the descendants of its builder, is Piedmont, the residence of the Briscoe family.  It is a brick house, nearly a century and a half old, with a lovely old portico, and it contains two of the most interesting relics I saw on my entire journey in the South.  The first of these is the wall paper of the drawing-room, upon which is depicted, not in pattern, but in a series of pictures with landscape backgrounds, various scenes representing the adventures of Telemachus on his search for his father.  I remember having seen on the walls of the parlor of an old hotel at South Berwick, Maine, some early wall paper of this character, but the pictures on that paper were done in various shades of gray, whereas the Piedmont wall paper is in many colors.  The other relic is a letter which Mrs. Briscoe drew from her desk quite as though it had been a note received that morning from a friend.  It was written on tough buff-colored paper, and, though the ink was brown with age, the handwriting was clear and legible and the paper was not broken at the folds.  It was dated “Odiham, Sept. 1st, 1633,” and ran as follows: 

     To Dr. John Briscoe, Greetings.

Dear Sir:  As the Privy Council have decided that I shall not be disturbed or dispossessed of the charter granted by his Majesty—­the Ark and Pinnace Dove will sail from Gravesend about the 1st of October, and if you are of the same mind as when I conversed with you, I would be glad to have you join the colony.

    With high esteem, Your most obedient servant,
        Cecilius Baltimore.