The Washington critic., 1889-03-27
SPRING IS HERE.

The tulips In the four heart-shaped beds
in Scott Circle are all in bloom and the red
and gold and purple cups seem to smile in
the sunshine with the zest OF a boy playing
hockey from dingy school-room.
Up IN Franklin Square, the prettiest OF
the city's oases, the robins fit about from
one to another of the boughs whose en-
erald buds are just swelling through the
dark bark.
The gardeners are stirring up the mellow
mold In the flower beds and taking the
straw wrappiDgs from around the tenderer
OF the small shrubs. The violets the daisies,
the butterchps, the bees, the sleepy turtles,
the robins, the butterflies, all say that spring
is here.
On all the commons In the outekirts OF
the city odd diamond shaped paths are be-
ing worn by the trample Of many feet.
Each corner Of the figure is marked by a
stone or piece Of board, or, perhaps, an
empty tomato can. At one corner for a
larger space than at the other three, the
grass is beaten to death and the ground
has surface of hard packed clay.
Yesterday afternoon half dozen laborers
came out from the Treasury Department
with long coil OF hose as big as that used
/ by fire engines. To one end they fastened
q nozzle, the other they connected with a
stationary fire engine in the basement Of
the building. Pipes are run from this en-
gine to all portions Of the building, with
coils of hose at half hundred different
places. A fire would have but little show
for its white alley In the Treasury.
Yesterday the men connected their hose
with one OF these valves, and, standing, in
the street, pointed the nozzle at the caps
on the immense stone column ranged along
the east front of the building The water
was turned on, and with q cracking hiss
the stream Of water sprang up through the
bright sunshine and splashed against the
stone cornices along the top of the build
ing. One by one the columns and their
caps were washed With single sweep OF
the nozzle the man in the street washed q
section Of the granite walls half as big as
an ordinary house. The water ran down
the asphalt on Fifteenth street like river.
In an hour the granite pillars, windows,
capitals, cornices and steps had been
washed. 1t was the Treasury's spring
house-cleaniDg.
Every well-dressed man and every Other
well-dressed woman on the Avenue yester.
day wore bunch of violets. The women
| who didn't, wore other flowers
The graceful, fragile shell was lifted
tenderly down from its shelf In the boat
house up theriver yesterday. Two brawny
negroes held 1t up before the door, with It's
bottom turned toward the light, and the
boat-keeper looked along its seams to sec
| II It had been injured since It was lifted
| carefully out Of the water for the last time
last fall. Then the dust was carefully wiped
from it's cedar streaks and the cushions
were taken from the store-room and busted
and then put in place on the seats at the
bow aIid stern. An amateur oarsman came
down and carefully inspected his paper
craft, and looked longingly at the polished
| blades of his slender spruce oars and started
to take off his coat, but 1t was a trihle toe
cold.
The long room with the lights streaming
in at It's high windows, the long table dowr
It's centre Uttered, covered, hidden with
flowers and ribbons and feathers, was as
busy as any beehive. Eight pretty faces
bent over eight flashing needles that danced
back and forth in eight sets of taper white
fingers. Over 100 bonnets have got to bs
finished before Easter.