Evening star., 1916-08-13
OLD GLYMONT WHARF.

When the Rambler left the iittie
steamboat at Pye's wharf he walked
west along the shore perhaps a fifth
or a quarter of a mile to the LANDING
which was Marbury's wharf Thoush
there are stretches of the shore
which are sandy and where the grand
fathers and gran4 mothers of many
lively Washingtonians went in bath
ing. the shore from Pye's wharf to the
ruined Glymont pier is covered with
large water-worn stones.
Near Old Glymont the bluff recedes
from the river, leaving a small patch
of low ground, green with tall grass
and boggy from the stream that flows
out of the well known spring. That
spring. close to the rotting timbers OF
the pavilion. is walled around with
stone. something like a well. and the
constant overflow rushes along a
trough formed by two planks. The
spring is under the shade of several
old trees. and close by the side of a
steep and stony road which leads from
the river shore to the top of the bluff.
there connecting with picturesque
road appropriately called Cedar lane.
which leads over wide stretches of
jevel and tolerably fertile land that
Tor many generations was titled by the
slaves of the Pye and Marbury families.
but which today is in possession or
later settlers. The road. which follows
a ravine that cuts through the BLUM,
bears little traffic now. though once it
bore a heavy burden. Once, mail
coaches travelled there. the mail being
carried from Washington to Glymont
by steamer, there being taken on
stages for distribution through a large
part of southern Maryland. The
stages carried passengers as well as
mail
The wreck of the pavilion is there.
The roof has fallen in and much of the
flooring has collapsed. and even where
il has not collapsed ii is so feeble and
shaky from decay that one sets foot
upon it with misgiving. Scattered
through the underbush that has grown
up around the pavilion are the flying
horses, their wooden carcasses painless
and weather beaten. These poor things
were once gay steeds that scampered
and caracoled, bearing little boys and
little girls whose children now have
little girls and little boys. The plank
ing of the pavilion floor creaked and
swayed as the Rambler walked across
it. and beside the creaking of the
floor the only sounds that fell upon the
ear were the busy chatter of a pair of
catbirds in the tangle, and the soft purr
forced tiny waves to ripple on the
shore. 1t seemed especially drear and
lonesome. There is no loneSomeneSS in
the deepest woods or the widest fields,
but in this deserted place, where SO
many mortals once made merry, the
air was eerie.
Following the little travelled road
from the Glymont ruins to Cedar lane
and thence into the main highway,
which runs east and west along the
neck" the Rambler came to that
church which officially is st. Charles
Catholic Church, but which is affection
ately known to everybody in southern
Maryland as The Neck Church" A new
frame building stands there and the
unstained marble corner stone tells
that it was set on August 4, 1913. Close
by, bricks hidden under weeds and a
growth of young oaks tell where the
older St. Charles Church stood for
about 14o years. Around the new church
and the foundation of the old building
are a few acres of land, where stand
old and monster oaks, and these acres
have swallowed thousands of the peo-
pie of that neighborhood, generation
after generation. A few old tomb
stones stand. and the Rambler totted
down the following epitaphs:
Edward Joseph Pye Esqr. Born February 8
1857. died January 2, 1901. The father of fou
children.