Picturesque Reminiscences

PicturesquelReminiscences BY SHIRLEY PENROSE JONES Man, if he willed, could learn wonderful things from the Books of Time by observing the physical changes that occur in the face of nature, and then the utter failure of Time to remove the traces of important events that are associated with the places physically changed. We gaze, delighted, at a mountain whose rugged face is scarred and mutilated and not easily recognized, because here, it may chance, a great deed was done, although the present appearance of the place may by no means be suitable for idealistic reminiscence. And so it is with men. Though their lives may hold something we disdain, yet if in those lives they per- formed some worthy act, that is later held up to counterbalance the other. And we have numerous examples of the clemency of Time. One at least is that of our most romantic and charming river. Its beauties are marvelous, and it is enchanting to review the long list of its associations, connecting it closely and tenderly with sacred incidents of our national life. We might truly designate it our "National River." No other can be so heroically portrayed as this. We have mightier, and some may be more beautiful, but no other river combines within it all virtues to make it such a par- agon as this. The Potomac is the river of Washington, of Mar- shall, of Lee, and many other of our eminent Americans have received their inspirations from it. We have no cause to hesitate because of its associations with the famed Confederate, General Lee, for he was a great American and a worthy foe. Time has proved his error, but has not impugned his motives. A brief word-picture will enable us to better know the Poto- mac, though words are imperfect instruments with which to paint it. The most pleasing and satisfactory way for us to be- come better informed of its charm is to take an evening boat from Washington. As the day is pondering over its well-performed tasks, and is preparing to retire, we leave Washington and are immediately transported into a different world. The cool, soft river breezes caress and soothe, like a magic fairy, our tired nerves, put on edge by the fierce heat of the city. Slowly and majestically our boat glides from its moorings, and, halting momentarily mid-stream before pointing her nose southward, gives us a wonderful pros- pect until earth and sky meet in the distant world of blue beyond.

The river, a glowing band, stretches off into space. The red reflection of the sun makes a pathway from earth to heaven and the countless little sunbeams dance and trip along this way with joyous irresponsibility. The water ripples and sparkles and on both sides of the river the entire journey are willows and trees of the deepest foliage. It looks like a band of silver bordered by green velvet. The ride becomes more beautiful as we go along. Little bays and branches of the river, or rather big indentations in the shore, give an appearance of largeness to the general view and make the panorama one of unsurpassed delight. Words can- not express the calm contentment that broods over all nature. Smoothly we glide over placid waters whose cool depths open and let us pass. The willows along the shore come timidly down to the water's edge and drink refreshingly, or else slope gently up- ward and merge in the rolling farm lands and fields beyond. The river is fortified with modern guns and equipment, be- GREAT FALLS, POTOMAC RIVER, NEAR WASHINGTON, D. C. cause it communicates directly from the ocean to the capital of the nation and makes a desirable approach for hostile vessels. The sun hangs suspended a moment, shining with fierce color, then lightly rests himself upon the distant horizon. The rippling water dances and capers, and moving lightly to the shore loses itself in the tiny eddies formed. Beyond the fringe of the underbrush, the rolling fields and hills of Virginia, with here and there a white painted farmhouse, are the images of peace and contentment. On the opposite shore are the equally pleasant farmlands of Maryland. Slowly the sun goes down. The twilight solitude enfolds the earth, and we are soon transported miles away from human inter-

WASHINGTON, D. C, FROM ARLINGTON course. The deepening shadows softly fall. The gurgle and murmur of the water against our boat are faintly heard. The wild fowl's cry comes weirdly across the wide expanse. In fancy we leave the present age. The woods hold strange images which soon take form. We see the peaceful farmlands replaced by dense forests. The river no longer treasures modern steamboats on her bosom. She is undisturbed save for one long, narrow canoe lying under the branches of an overhanging tree. Our interest becomes breathless and our vision grows keener. We see gleam- ing eyes peering from out the darkness. A silent line of somber forms glides noiselessly over the turf. Dusky bodies painted in hideous colors and crowned by heads of coarse raven hair stalk stealthily along. Strange fear arises in our minds. The whis- pering voices of the evening foretell a tragedy. Suddenly a sound, unearthly as the cry of unchained demons, rends the solitude. In a little clearing stands a tiny house of logs. Smoke curls upward from the chimney. The pioneer's wife inside is busy with the evening meal. The man is resting from his day of toil, at peace with all, for he is building in the wilderness a heritage for his posterity. He hears the awful sound. His face grows pale, and fear clutches at his heart. Hastily he bars the rude door, and his terrified wife awaits with him in silence the savage onslaught. Some days later a party of trappers come upon the scene ; a smoldering mass of ruins. It is the mute testimony of the con- queror conquered. Thus is told the story of the pioneers, the sturdy race that fought the wild and tamed the earth that progress might come forth, and paved a way for the more timid who should follow. We see the march of events lead on until suddenly we arouse ourselves to find a luminous southern moon shining down upon us. To those whose skepticism flaunts the power of

this majestic stream to visualize the past, we say, behold and be convinced ! The mystery of the woods falls upon all. The splendor of the moon intensifies the beauty of our ride. No more romantic sight can human eyes behold than moonlight on the Potomac. So many stirring scenes of history have been enacted along its banks that we are prone to allow ourselves once more the pleasure of oblivion from the present. On the Virginia side, some twenty miles from Washington, is Mount Vernon, dear to all Americans. Its broad, rolling lawns slope gently upward to the wide veranda, extending along the front of the old colonial mansion. The house is already familiar to us from the many pictures of it we have seen. A thrill of delight acquaints us with the pleasure we experience in viewing the home of our illustrious patriot. Almost directly across the river is Marshall Hall, home of the great chief justice. The gen- eral aspect of the country is sublime, inspiring. One can readily understand how dear were these stately homes to their equally stately owners. Nothing more satisfying can be enjoyed than the vista opened up before us in this river paradise. Our boat is now headed back to Washington. Too swiftly we glide along, passing Fort Washington on the way. The grim walls suggest war and tumult entirely out of harmony in the at- mosphere of peace. But we can readily recall that once the coun- try round about was discordant with vast throngs of men seeking the blood of their brothers, and that sounds of strife and carnage filled the air, driving happiness away and filling men's hearts with fierce hatred never meant to be displayed or felt. Now the lights of Alexandria twinkle on our left. This is, perhaps, the second oldest citv in our country, and once was fa- mous as a shipping port. Here are streets paved with cobble stones placed in position by Hessian soldiers taken prisoners in the War for Independence. On a quiet street, set back among the stately trees, stands a white church where Washington, and later Lee, were accustomed to receive spiritual encouragement. Soon the lights of Washington appear. The great dome of the Capitol dominates the citv, and in the foreground the needle- like Washington monument pierces the sky. But, before reaching Washington, we pass Arlington on our left. Here the National Cemetery has been dedicated and here lie buried the victims of the Maine. The picturesque home of Lee dominates the place and is built on an ascent overlooking the cemetery. There are few places in the world, and fewer river valleys, where so many homes of illustrious men and so many scenes of historic prominence are situated, as in the Valley of the Potomac. We leave our boat with a sigh, but with a feeling of gratitude that Time has so generously dealt with our National River. WASHINGTON, D. C.