Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1894-11-03

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the nations capital,
but can do so at no
other season.
But one cannot say directly to you Wash
lngtonians all the nice things one thinks
about your charming city. That would
seem too like bare-faced lattery. Those
who like, however, may read what letter
which went to New York said after three
months summer acquaintance on the part
of its writer with its attractions. She left,to
come here a pretty seaside resort on Long
Island, which is her home for the warm
months, and to which she could have return
ed at any time, had she preferred; or to her
own city hor1e near New York,with It's large,
airy rooms and piaZzas, and admirable do
nestle service. But she has fingered here,
finding an Irresistible attraction in all that
pertains to the capital city. Her opinion
therefore, is not that OF "bucolc VINO
has never been anywhere before, and has
never been on intimate terms with any
more luxurIes than could be had on 81 900
salary. On the contrary. she Is thoroughly
familiar with this entire continent, knows
her Europe well, and two previous visits to
Washington have acquainted her with lts
winter enchantmerts.
How Ii All Happened.
Now for the letter:
what possessed me to leave the sea-
shore and come to Washington, that warm
place, to spend the summer, cherieY" Wen,
I'll tell you all about it. My friend, Mrs.
e., who lives here, bemoaned in letter to
me the necessity of having her house shut
up for three months while she took her
family off to the mountains, or else &C
cepted the alternative OF renting it to dear
knows who, or having caretakers to live in
the basement The latter seems the usual
way I'm which housewives here solve the
finfn htrf oft har MIA mt
ton of spirit to the fastdious woman when
she returned in the autumn, and either
stuffy, unused atmosphere in the house
greeted her nostrils and chung round them
all winter, or repairs and breakages and
damages took OFF all the profits of renting.
In my reply said jokingly: II think, my
sister. and will come down and live in your
house, and make acquaintance with some of
the fascination which / more than suspect
Washington has for a summer. as well as a
winter, residence" Mrs. L. clinched in
earnest with the remark, and here We are.
Her own servants she took with her,
but secured for us an old darkey cook whose
reliability she knew from former services
He and his wife and child live in the base
ment, and care for the neatness of the
house, which, as there is but little of what
We New Workers would call dust, on ac-
count of the cleanly-kept asphalt streets
mere Is slight task. Virginia does the
laundry Tor somewhat less than we would
pay outside as soap, starch and those
things which are usually in the household
stock In large quantities were placed by
Mrs. u. at our disposal, as was also the
gas stove, and fuel for the range when
required. James caters for US two for $40
per month.
Realizing that we were in competent
hands, we gave ourselves I'D to seeing and
enjoying Washington. Too warm to 90
apout much? No, indeed, except In the mid
Ole OF the day. The government buildings.
rose nuge piles. of granite, are cool and
draughty in the corridors, so that one may
spend very comfortably in them the hours
from about $50 to o'clock, and so easily
VISIT them thoroughly and at leisure in a
Few days time, leaving the cooler, long twi-
nght hours IN which to go about the CITY
streets and environments.
There have not been more than ten or
twelve days during the months of July
August and September when ii has not
been perfectly comfortable to walk about
except from l to o'clock, and this in
Washington-the SOUTH, as We northern
ers say!
No Mosquitoes Dust.
And my letters from the ocean shores of
Long Island from country and mountain re-
sorts, tell me of the scorching heat there,
the mosquitoes where they never came be-
fore. the intolerable dust from want of rain,
the glare of the sun on the expanse of sand
and all the dlscomforts which J. at least
have not encountered in Washington. The
asphalt pavements may be hot but they do
not reflect more heat than do the sand and
over nearly every residence street effectual-
ly prevents that overheating of the pave
ments, and, being sufficiently high and open,
allow constant circulation of the soft
breeze which usually fans the capital city,
and which Is not possible among the denser
forests and foliage in country and mountain
resorts.
Stopping on any corner away from the
Immediate business thoroughfares and look
ing in any direction, one sees long yistas
OF yerdure; sometimes in puffs of feathery
green, undulating overhead along each side
OF the smooth, clean, gray streets, which
look like endless pieces Of wide, firmly
stretched tape; sometimes in arches, high
or low, one. two or three, like gothic archi-
lecture, or In fat-lylng bands of green
sward. With 1900 trees adorning its $50
miles of roads, what wonder that the city
looks like bower? And one seldom sees
here the hideous rows of houses, all alike
to general complexion and build, which
make our New York streets so uninterest-
ing. Here, though. many have been so
tightly closed that they looked as IL they
bad the lockjaw; yet each house and each
block seems to have an individuality. Per-
haps 1t is because two-thirds of the resi-
fences are built back from the street, upon
! terrace. more or less wide, which Is a
most becoming setting for any house, and
when repeated for square after square, as
here, Is one important factor in the beauty
Of the city.
Cool Street Costumes.
"You see ladies walking in the streets in
stead OF on the sidewalk, perhaps, and you
are so surprised. but you soon discover that
every one does so II they prefer the smooth
surface to the uneven brick pavements-
the only unpleasant feature of getting about
here. On Connecticut avenue, the fashion
able boulevard, late in the afternoon and
early in the evening. one sees passing up
and down ladies. old and young, who, one
is told. are wives and daughters well known
in the social world. They are without their
hats. and often in such diaphanous sum-
mer gowns as one sees elsewhere only at
gay summer resorts, the sleeves huge
muslin puff coming only to the elbow, the
bodice cut half high at the neck. But this
seni-party attire is all so modest and
pretty, seems so customary, and, above all,
IS suited to the climate, that one wishes
other small cities would adopt the sensible
fashion. No one seems surprised to see
ladies-whom we frequently recognize as
belonging TO the haut-monde-in similar at
tire, even on the thronged Pennsylvania
avenue, early and late in the evening, both
In elegant private equipages and in the
street cars. 1t seems the custom of all but
the most exclusive class.
"Cable-car rides are the enjoyable fashion
Of the place-another thing we of New
York can't indulge in because Of obvious