Evening star. [volume], March 16, 1919, Page 2, Image 56

About Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
The Rarr
THIS narrative begins on a road
which has seen belter daya?
that is, more traffic paused
over this road In other days.
: Roads have tbelr change* In fortune
Just as men and families have, and
they have tbelr rise and fall Just as
tinplrea have had and as republics
lay. The Rambler purposely avoids
Writing that roads have their ups and
downs, because that might be mis
l&nen ror an angioni pun, una tt pun
must be very pungent to be clever,
Which few of them are. A man must
be a confirmed antiquarian, or even
trorie than that, wtt> can And any
tilth, beauty or Intereat In an old
butt. A pun la a cruel tnliig. The
very name cornea from an Am;lo'
Saxon word which means "to pound"
Jr "to brulae," and has thua come to
Ignlfy a word that haa been pounded
or beaten Into another meaning. I a
'Juvenal" Dryden writes of a man "who
dealt In dovgrel or who punned In
fcrose," and in "Trollua and Cresalda"
Will Shakespeare makes the acurril'
. bus Grecian Theraltea say to A J ax
that Achilla* "would pun thee into
hirers with hi* flat a* a **llor breaks
h biscuit."
Old puns make one think of old
Jokes. Perhaps the best Jokes hie
old ones and perhaps the cynic might
say that the only Jokes arc old ones.
An old Joke may brine a laugh, but
Sometimes the laughter Is not a
I tribute to the humor of the joke, but
s" , ft tribute to Its age. And sometimes
5: lbs laugh Is on the Jdfer and not at
Si... the Joke. But the Rambler will not
J\ hall at this point In his Journey to
$5 rlscuss whether there is sucn a thing
as a new Joke. Then la not. All
> Jokes have been told.
ev s a
*
The road In question Is not a hilly
f;' He. It Is about three-quarters of a
mil* long and (or two-thirds of Its
length It passes over lend that is
pearly flat and then begins an easy
Qeacent into the vale of a minor
Stream, the name of which. If there is
in*, Is not known to the Rambler.
iffhmt minor stream Howe into cauin
John run and the road runs along
W Ita side, having tor some distance
g retaining wall of big blocks of
ranlte to keep the atream from trespassing
on ita right of way. But in
ppita of tha atone wall the little
atream In momenta of fury, excitement
and freshet floods the road.
In previous narrative the Rambler,
> ' tolling the story of Ilermon Chapel.
vrote that It stands In the vertex of
ja ha angle formed by Potomac pike
ending In a northwest direction and
wad leading toward the north. The
typesetting machine put the little
:V. ihapel in the "vortex'' of the angle,
f* mt that was a trivial mistake when
wmpdred with tha great mistakes
frhlch are being made today by men
nth whom we do not agree. It is the
' '? * leading north from Potomac pike
It Harmon Chapel that the Rambler
fa walking on today. There is no
s&r? ingestion of traffic on this way. Only
SB i tow hoof-printa and wheel-tracks
Eft ire marked In the dirt and they are
ptala.
"c . Half way along the road, where
there la a high bank an the west side.
& ' the Rambler sat down to rest and to
?&. hlnk of somstbing to write about, or
tk - it least to think of something about
ife he old road out of which he could
*-- Mo flunitnv Pgr.
? UBKV IIIO BIUI/ ?Hi? j - ?
i,: . papa It miy h aaid that some men do
Sp- pot have to think at all In order to
a" think of something to write about.
|jw And this may be true. There are
W many atorlea which give one that
W Impression. We all know persons who
Ess pan always think of something to say
, Without thinking at all, and who are
'v always able TT5 say a great deal wlth\
put saying anything.
The Rambler is not Insisting that
there la anything especially pralse4
; worthy In the mere act or passion of
PS chinking. It is what the thinking is
About and what the thoughts are that
6oght to count. We often s;iy "he Is
#?> a thinking man" or a "thoughtful
' '* than" when we mean to praise a felX';
|ow. But great scoundrels have been
|?,' deep thinkers. Every man who Is
4 reading these lines would call to
Jnlnd even If the Rambler shouTd not
mention it, that lean and hungry Casilus
was a thinking man. Some men
will think a week as to whether it
;r' were better to plant onion seed'or
' a ' ? i_ . ~ ...... v,.
mritlfy 111 IIIO um.n |ILI u VI n umi^i
ho border Bhould be planted in n?surtiums
or aweet alyssum. Some
nan are ao thoughtful that they will
Sjftf nedltate at the bedside In the mornng
ai to whether they should put on
? he right shoe'or the left shoe first.
lonie very Hard thinkers can come to
Rfcr is bad conclusions as anybody else
JR.1 ind other men can come at proper
Conclusions without breaking a blood
jjpi Vessel Ip the brain by heavy thinking.
oSj; t often happens lliat the stupidest
Spf; men are those who want a couple of
Igr iayr "to think It over." What they
tm:\ sally want is a couple of days to
hink up excuses for not doing what
l you want them to do.
-Sfi Yet, a man who thinks or ponmj
derously as some men snore will get
V the reputation in a community for
V being wise. If he never attempts to
K do anything but what his ancestors
K[k' and others' ancestors have done a
t million times before, and never takes
g?| & chance by which he might lose a
" dollar, his fellow citizens will say
fe?. Of him that "he is a very safe aud
iif Conservative man." On the other
J':. ?-J l# ?-l. .v- - ^.^^4 ? ^I,li.,?
n?uu, 11 ft mail laaca a guuu
chance and wins, his fellow townsy
v inen will nay of him, "He Is a shrewd
ftv' fellow, with great breadth of vision.
{on-night and perspicacity, and he ie
EgS. k splendid Judge of men and values
?-t , and a thorough student of all matHI
t*" which he undertakes."
* *
| On the other hand?I do not re
IMmber whether that makes two or
.three "other hand*"?If he loses Instead
of wins, his kind-hearted townsaaan
will say: "What a foolish,
E~;_ Short-sighted, visionary and addleL
headed chump he was to undertake
fc' - ptseh a rash and highly speculative
lbler Write
The Discovery of a Chimne
the TZarly Discoverers?
of Their Mental Prn
V-J ? ? -
Troublesome He
v'x^pB^L^SS
venture! Serves him right! I have th
no sympathy for these people who to
do not look before they leap." an
Before falling into this digression pa
about thoughts and thinking, the th
Rambler had seated himself under wi
the shelter of a high bank on a road in
leading by Hermon Chapel, from Po- ca
tomac pike to the River road. There al
he fell into a brown study as to what th
he should write about this Sunday, ea
And. by the way, he cannot under- fit
stand why a study should be brown, kn
There is no more reason why a man to
shotlid fall into a brown study than Bn
into a canary-colored study, a cream- th
colored study, a salmon-colored study, pa
a Nile-green or a pickle-green study, be
or one of alice blue, mauve, pale lilac, ho
olive drab, orangeade or tomato red. th
Ben Jonson, "rare Ben Jonson," the 0v
English dramatist?not the Kentucky i8
statesman long eminent as the District's
champion In Congress?wrote:
"Faith, this brown study suits not
your black; your habit and your t
thoughts are or two colors." It may std
have been those lines that made t>.
brown the fashionable color in '
studies, but It is likely that Jonson "e
inherited thu phrase from somebody foi
jkm
Br :mm
wm
LIT!
else, who inherited it from somebody gr
else, who nrot It from somebody in (hi
Greece or Rome, who wrote it with stl
a stylus on sheepskin, who got it bn
from some Egyptian who wrote it on stf
papyrus with a reed, who got It from gl?
some ltabylonian, who traced it in mi
wet clay and baked It into a brick, a 1
who heard his grandfather use the P"
expression before writing was In- bit
vented. "Brown study" is probably ?hi
as old as be
Little tirown Jug?
Ill, ha, hi, you anil met ' ,
Little brown Jug, ?l!
Don't 1 lore theft bu
sel
While lij this brown study and pa
probably sending out thought-waves lla
in sepia and humber the Rambler, th!
surveying a 'wide landscape to the an
east, thought he could make out a tin
KHhtf nhlmnav u m or enm a en nn/l th
evergreen trees nearly half a mile ar
away. In all that wide landscape bu
which lay nnder the Rambler's vision ab
there appeared no house nor any lane Re
leading east from the road suggesting th<
that a habitation might lie In that he
direction. In the foreground and mid- he
die-ground was an extensive field that w<
seemed not to have been under the m<
plow for several years. In the dls- pli
lant background were hills robed in pur- as
pie hase. Jo
The Rambler knew that those hills ne
rose on the far side of Cabin John run. de
1
s of Old
y Lost Among the Underl
-A Word About Persons V
icesses?The Extraordim
ibit of Cochleburs and B
mmmm
i^Sb
jRI^H 4 S^Mbto! B
^ .?r'^H9Bl yjfttw-iS, s^^n ^B
THE HOCSE or THE CHIMNEY.
at from north to south, about a mile
the east, ran the Seven Locks road,
id that from east to west, through a (-]
rt of the valley of Cabin John, ran h
e River road. He knew that there ft,
;re many houses along and overlook- jr,
g those roads. He believed that he fu
rrled In his "mind's eye, Horatio," \y
I the houses In the neighborhood b<
rough which he was traveling?or Hi
untertng or tramping, If those words AI
the case more fittingly. But he T<
ew of no house where there seemed SV
be a brick chimney vaguely visible fr
tong the bare branches of oaks and a<:
e green boughs of pines. He had at
.ssed that way often, and had never th
'iuic uuiiccu any indication ui a k[
>use where thin chimney stood among st
e trees. "If there is an old house gt
er there." thought the Rambler, "it
a new one on me." la
a hr
* * h?
"limbing the rail fence on the east
le of the road, he struck across? th
at Is, he began to walk across?the
Id that had not been under the plow j0
r several years. It had been up- Gi
T?E STONE HOI SE IN TUB WILDS.
own In tall weeds last summer, and C<
; dead stalks of the weeds were na
11 standing. They were the gray and na
own relics of the cow-tall weed, th
ilks of Queen Ann's lace and a Jun- bu
5 of dead golden rod and mullein, HI
ich of the growth being as high as ju
man's head. Mingled In It were big H
tches of briars. These were tall Ni
ickberry bushes. In some places K'
e field was a tangle of low black- J>,e
rry bushes and dewberry vines. All y1
them were bereft of their leaves, 'f
t not of their thorns. There were th
Jo patches of dead ragweed and
rdock. Cockleburs hooked them- y
Ives to the llambler's coat and >e
nts In the most friendly and fami- so
r manner, and those vulgar little Br
ings which are c-Alled "beggar lice" ,u
d "beggar ticks" embraced him by da
e thousand. The Rambler believes [>e
at the polite names of these pests be
e "bldens" and lappula Vlrglnlana,
t he may be wrong about this, as C,J
out many other things. And the S?
imbler does not understand why
ey should be called beggar lice and re
ggar ticks. They certainly do not
g; they take hold without saying a
>rd. They do not stick to beggars ;
>re tightly than to others. They
ay no favorites. They will stick Just .
tight to Dives as to Lazarus. If
hn D. Rockefeller, or Andrew Car- n?
gle, or J. P. Morgan, or Prank Van- ar
Nip, or Charles Glover. Milton Ailes, th
Roads ai
yrush?In a Class With.
Vho Make Full Use
iry and Rather
beggar Ticks. {
rmm -
;^> :H S^^B^PP^gH^9E||^^^H
:1 Stellwagen, John Earner, Will
oover, George White, Charles Bell,
arence Norment. Cuno Rudolph,
oward Moran, Billy Hibbs. Will
>aid. Gene Thompson. Will Flather,
rank Herron, Ed Olds. Hillearv Oftt,
Robert Harper. Frank Stone,
111 Galliher. Will Selby. Victor Oey r,
George Fleming, Boyd Taylor,
jrry Meem, Charlie Jacobscn Gene
ilea, Corcoran Thorn, George Walson,
>m Hickman, Frank Devereux, John
telton Williams or any other rich
tenia of the Rambler should walk
rosg that fleld In pursuit of what
>peared to be a brick chimney among
ie bare branches of oaks and the
-een boughs of pines, they would get t
uck as full of cockieburs and begtr
ticks as the Rambler was. 3
Of course, In this dead jungle of t
st year's weeds and this year's t
iar. the Rambler lost sight of f
hat appeared a distant chimney, but 1
> thought of the trials of other great c
plorers, and he pressed on. He j
ought of Columbua Magellan,
nerlcus Veaouoclo. Vasgo da Gama.
sif Ericsson, Stanley. Livingstone, J
hn Franklin. Nordenskiold, Nansen, >
-eeley, Peary, Amundsen and Dr. <
c
a
)ok?Pr. F. A. Cook was the full
ime?and with those stimulating
imes In mind, he tore on through
e tall und clinging blackberry
shes and the sticktlght weeds.
Is thoughts rose superior to his Inred
trousers and his torn hands,
e thought that at some time the
ational Geographic Society would
tra o- ?-J ' At
' ^ UlIU l? * ?- v-t JJIIUII V* UIIIIICI ?U III"
ir preferred?and that Gilbert ?
osvenor, John La Ooroe or George r
utchison, standing at the head of I
e table with the beauty and J
Ivalry (antiquated phrase) of a
ashlngton gathered around the t
stal board would raise high a orltn- h
n beaker or a flaming flagon of t
ape juice and say: "Let us drink
the Rambler, who, daring the
tngers of wild and pitiless blackrry
bushes, pricking cockleburs and
ggar lice, pressed on across a field,
oe-top deep in March mud, and en- 1
anted the world by the discovery
a brick ohlmney on Cabin John
tin. May the benlson of civilization ,
Bt upon him." (Ivoud applause.)
*
Finally the Rambler came to a part
the field where the land sloped J
>wn and In full view of the chlm- ^
y whloh he had seen from afar,
lOther which he had not eeen and I
e old house to which they belong. 1
id Lanes
t war not a hard climb down to the
rarden of the house. Nobody lives
here, and It seems that nobody has
ived there for a long1 time. It bad
>een a comfortable houses but not
hat kind which Is commonly called
ipaclous or commodious. Part of it
vhloh no doubt had been the kitohen
las been torn away, and the outline
>f this old part shows against the
louse. A deep stone-walled pit which
ras the cellar beneath the kitchen
,-awns there: that Is, It is there. The
thlngle roof la old and very likely
eaky. Borne of the window shutters
tave been broken off. and many of
he little square pence 01 K'MBwnicn
lught to be In the windows are not.
The front door was half open and the
tambler went through the hollow, echong
rooms, first on the ground floor, and
hen, after climbing the ateep and narow
stairs, those on the top floor. There,
hrough the broken windows of the old
louse he looked out upon a fine view to
he north and the east. Rain had pourid
through the open windows and the
loor boards were waterlogged. Plaster,
alien from the wulla and celling, lltered
the floors. Some rubbish lay
iround, and In it was a baby's shoe,
rhe garden showed that long ago it
lad been given care. At the north
ront of the house are five long-leaf
tine trees, each about sixty feet tall
md standing at regular intervals, showng
that they had been planted there,
tig oaks were also growing there.
Nobody was nearby of whom the Ramiler
could ask who had lived there, but
rom certain bits of evidence and from
acts that the Rambler long ago forgot
mt now recollected, he felt that he
ould make a reasonably safe guess as
o the history of this house. The carter!
sloped down on the north to Cabin
ohn run, where the course of that
tream is east and west, and across the
un is a long, low stretch of the River
oad. The old house Is clearly visible
roin the road in winter, but in the seaon
of leaves it cannot be seen.
Off the west end of the house is a
iiiin 11 structure of stone. It looks as
hough it might have been built many
ears ago as a storehouse and later concerted
into an humble, habitation.
Jut that is conjecture. Prom the
lortkh front of the house the trace
if a path led west through brushy
voods. It did not require much inteligence
to figure out that by that
>ath the people who had lived in the
rouse reached the nearest public road.
V grain of common senBe told that
he nearest road would be that which
eaves Potomac pike, passes Hermon
'hapel and leads to the River road,
rhis path then would strike the road
vlilch the Rambler had left to cross
he fields at a point close to its Juneion
with the River road and in the
rale of that minor stream which has
to name and sometimes floods the
'oad from Hermon Chapel.
*
* *
The Rambler recalled that passing
ilong that road In midaummer two
rears ago he had noted old quarries
here. This little stone house, the
'oundation of the old house and the
1st slabs making a pavement in front
if the house were from that quarry,
t could not be more than a few hunIred
yards away. Another glance
ihowed that the trace of a path leadng
In that direction had been a road.
Convinced that he now knew whose
ild home the place was he moved on.
About a mile to the east Is the Seven
,ocks road, which would lead back to
he Conduit road. The country did not
ook as difflcult as that he had come
hrough to reach the house, and, withiut
taking the trouble to cross the run
tnd get Into t}ie River road, started
ast 'cross country. Not far from the
louse he came into a path. Vines and
lushes grew thick there, but that
lath could not be doing anything else
han following the course of an old
oad. It wound around the hillsides
nstead of going over the top. as
hough It shunned steep grades. The
tambler felt that only a very rich or
ixtravagant man would have built a
oad in that way. Part of the hillilde
was cut away to let the road rise
lastly. That was a riddle. But the
inswer came when, under a deep
[rowth of vines, a bit of rock wall
ihowed. It was on the outside of the
oad, and showed that care had been
aken to hold the road level where It
iad been scooped out of the side of
he hill. This, then, was the line of
in old railroad. It must be. of course,
i long-abandoned railroad, that led
rom the quarries. The trace of the
oad, always Indistinct and through
ome parts of its course obliterated,
ed to the highland on which the
louse of Glen Moore stands, and of
vhich the Rambler wrote three Suhluys
ago.
John Moore, of whom the Rambler
ilso wrote on that Sunday, bought this
iroperty, which he nnnied Glen Moore,
rom the family of Charles Dodge, ft
inval ofllcer, who came by this land
hrough marriage to Elisabeth, a
In inrlit ar e\t T> obael T~v? ? 1 A??"
? -D" *? w? ? vjinui. v i ucvi??
ohn Moore was a contractor. Nearly
.11 the people In Georgetown during
he civil war knew him. Besides being
i contractor, he ran the Flying Cloud,
he packet plying between Georgeown
and Cumberland.
The quarries, the railroad, the old
louse with the granite slab pavement
n front of it and the long-leaf pine
rees at regular Intervals and all
n proximity to the fine house of Glen
ifoore, told the Rambler that this
louse one of whose chimneys he had
[llmpsed far over the fields, was the
Irst home of John Moore In that part
if tho country, and that when he
nade a large amount of money he
ought the flnu place he called Glen
doore and moved away from the
mailer dui picturesque noma, wnere
he granite slabs make a pavement
efore the door and the long-leaf pine
rees grow.
Heckling a Bolshevik.
A SENATOR wag talking about the
* bolahevlkg.
"They don't have It all their own
vay, though," he aald. "A bolshevik
irator was spouting the other day In
i park.
" Progress!" he yelled. 'Progress am)
tolshevltm! We are wiser than our
athers was. and they In their turn
were wiser than their fathers was.'
" "dee, mister,' said a heckler, 'wliut
i fool your grandfather must
>een!' " .
' ' ' ' . '-'ii " ji, i">i
? ...'"V' KbsCNMR .'Si-'-lJ