Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1864-07-13

that expects nothing for he shall not be
| disappointed. Broad as the road !" the
hymn bewails-one hundred and sixty
| feet, with sidewalks wider than the ply
Iactaries of the Pharisees, the Avenue,
cut through the alders of q morass in the
opening wear of the nineteenth century,
! is before you. Cooper's "Pathfnder"
might go a gipsying with ShakesPear
Moor, for his occupation would be gone.
Washington does its best TO keep out OF
the street, and thanks to somebody's hos
pitable thought, it was left out of doors
altogether; for with thirty-six hundred
acres of pavement, there are only thirty
FIVE hundred for buildings. Unhappy
Washington, sprinkled, like the Mayweed
along two-hundred and sixty miles of
road you look across on, Arabia Petrea
and dimly discern your neighbor. And
SO it is ''the city of magnificent distances"
in which you must go further to get yon-
der than anywhere else on the continent.
But for Pennsylvania Avenue broad
highway, scanned with railroad tracks,
fringed with double row of green trees,
and all sorts of buildings tricked out with
immense pinafores and aprons Of awning
at half mast, their toes turned in lest
|
watching you from behind those trees,
/ like tribe of Powhattan IN the old time.
| Dingy brick; little, brown wooden struc-
lures with dormor windows projecting in
wonder like Holsters eyes; five stories,
| four stories, three stories, two stories; a
regular John Rogers brood except that
there are mono cat the breast" Like an
unruly school, the houses are forever get
ting up and sitting down. Now and then a
stately building of white stone or modern
front, seems to step out from the days
that are no more, into this year of grace,
'64. You pass the United States Hotel
the Metropolitan, looking like a vast
white milestone on the route to George
town and manifest destiny the Ma
tional whence Clay went up to the other
house "not made with hands, !" "W Williard's
where all the world is supposed to dine.
! The Avenue is museum without Bar
mum; every calling has its representative
man. Pantaloons kick at you as you pass;
hand-organs dolefully grind the day out;
you can buy satin slipper one minute,
and load of hay the next. Collins stand
up on ends, empty and hungry, and pc
tition you to get in, and be composed; a
transparency suggests you to be embalm-
ed; a lantern persuades you to go to the
Varieties" At the heels of Secretary
of a Department goes shrivelled timer
ant with his loon-like cry of "um-ber-ells
to mend" and littleiinky boot-blacks
swarm at the crossings, and make dive
at your feet as you pass. Here a build
/ ing delights in classic portico; there a
q mariet-house with the architecture of
an old rope-walk and a brood of ricketty
sheds in tow, is sneaking obliquely off
the Avenue, as if to get out OF sight
The sidewalks are edgee with second hand
furniture; ice-cream yenders are camped
beneath the trees; index fingers point
out the whereabouts of the aspiring wash
erwoman and the perspiring cook;
among pyramids of pine-apples, oranges,
tomatoes, through tangles of all eolored
humanity, from Congo to Christendom,
meeting now the Beauty and now the
Beast, you make your way. Oregon ell
bows Maine, and Great Britain and Bra
zil walk down ''the shady side" in COM
pany.- q. .1- rgtr-.r-- aa. .-.--.
Such is sketch at gallop, of scene
or two on Pennsylvania avenue-a thor
oughfare where, at almost every step,
Yesterday seems looking over the shoul-
der of To-day, and Tomorrow peers sni-
lingly between. -r-----.r-g