Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1914-03-01

land, and I have learned one thing:
Whatever the situation may be in New
England and rural New York. there
aren't many abandoned farms" in the
environS of Washington l thought it
would be easy to find the sort of place
I want, for my requirements are not
exacting. My specifications have been
about like this: house Of seven or
eight rooms. with as many convenienceS
may be had; five to twenty acres of
land. with some timber preferred if the
acreage runs to ten or more: a little
barn: within walking distance of the
station. and not more than an hour
by train or trolley from the Treasury.
I want to rent for year, with the
period at a price not to exceed $4,000.
Sounds easy. doesn't it? You'd think
there were scores Of just such places
in Virginia and Maryland within an
hours ride of the city. I've had scores
of places offered me, but the one Jane
and l are going this afternoon to see is
the first judged by the agents descrip-
ton of it. that approximates what we
want. There are eight acres, with an
eight-room house; no timber. but CON
siderable fruit a barn and a chicken
house 1t is within sight of the electric
railway. he says, and but fifty minutes
from the Treasury. Possession may be
had at once, the agent assures US. as
the house has been vacant for some time.
So. this being the first Sunday since
made our find we shall adventure
FORTH high in hope and expectation. |
shall have a ten-dollar bill in my pocket
with which to bind the bargain, in event
the place measures up to its description.
Chickens, garden; little later on,
perhaps. COW! 1t looks good to me.
has been growing less elastic year by
year. and the need of elasticity has
steadily increased. We certainly try to
be economical. but strive as we may. the
L. Ill
five-room apartment is $50 month. Jane
does her own work and goes to market
to do her buying, instead of ordering by
telephone. In fact. we haven't afforded
a telephone for several years. Jim. is
eleven and Ned Is nine. and the appetites
of those boys is something fearful and
wonderful to behold. 1t costs a lot to
dress them, too. When we get in the
country they'll go barefoot all summer
and wear blue-jeans overalls. That's a
joy of boyhood 1 never knew, for I was
born right here in Washington, and even
when little shaver had to be dressed
up every afternoon. Margery isn't
make her so. Poor kid. she hasn't had
half a chance. The sidewalks aren't
much of play-place for delicate little
girl. We can't afford a nurse, and her
mother is always uneasy when she is
out alone Housework keeps Jane SO busy
that it is only now and then she finds
time to take the child to the park. The
result is that Margery spends altogether
too much time inside the flat.
But won't things be changed, though,
when we get in the country? All day.
long she can run and play, picking wild
flowers until she tires and then lie in the
grass under an apple tree and listen to
the droning of the bees. Think of being
awakened in the morning by the songs
of birds, instead of by the ash mans
horn. And the dark. quiet nights for
sleeping! Do you realize that city dwell
ers hardly know what darkness means?
street lamp shines right into our bed
room window, and l haven't been in
actual darkness for years.
But don't get the idea that it's wholly
or even chiefly, for wild flowers and song
birds that we're going to the country
We're going because we believe there we
can solve the problem OF living, which
n town keeps pressing down upon US with
such increasing weight. Rent and food
and clothing, car fare and doctors bills
md the premiums on my $1,000 life in
surance policy keep my bank account as
rare as Mother Hubbards cupboard
There isn't any margin for savings. The
$1,000 we have didn't come from my
salary It's James. willed her by an
incle ten years ago. 1t was conse-
rated to a home the day she got 1t. and
% that purpose it has been sacred. We
lidn't touch it even when her long illness
He'd M doctors and hospital bills that
.tilired three. ye;is of bed -Tocn =. IN