Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1918-06-23

SaSoth, y" hiSh 10y alOhS Jim
cult run. in the neighborhood of the
crossing of that wild creek and the
Georgetown and Leesburg turnpike.
Quite little settlement has grown
up on the Peacock farm, and in mem
DRY of that old landowner and worthy
citizen the place is called Peacock.
settlement" is a term that is not
easy to define with nicely. But for
that matter neither is hamlet" nor
village" 1t is not possible. at least
for the Rambler, to explain just where
hamlet ends and village begins,
and settlement" is so vague that it
may mean many things to many per-
sons. However, out of the Peacock
tract have been created several
tracts. some of them of farm size ard
some of garden size, and right there
crops up another difficulty, because
the line differentiating a garden-size
tract from one of farm-size is not
clear and there are large gardens and
small farms.
out of, or subdivided out of, Tom Pea
cocks land are extensive enough to
have large fields of wheat, corn and
rye: to have wide fields of clover for
horses and cows to Craze in and to
have big barns with red roofs, tall
silos and all the equipment that
makes up farm. Then, some of the
tracts that were part of Tom Pea
cocks land are without such impress
stve things as wheat fields, corn fields,
nave tomato, potato and bean patches
with little orchard of fruit trees
and a grape arbor near the bungalow
or cottage. Some of the places look
like the summer homes of city people,
while others are the all-the-year
homes of country people.
X
There is a clear distinction between
city people who live in the country
and realiy-truly country people. The
latter class make the fields and
orchards support them. while the for
mer work at some business in order
to support the fields and orchards.
Both of these classes at Peacock are
happy, sunburnt and prosperous and
are so enthusiastic about the beauty
and merits of their settlement and
neighborhood that they have wonder
ed how the Rambler could wri.e so
many columns about Prospect Hill,
Spring Hill, Bellevue. Forestville,
Odrick Corners and Ash Grove be-
fore reaching Peacock. Out of the
the farms and country estates of John
Peacock, Rev. A. H. Sedgwick, Joseph
Van Sickler, Levin Smith of the
washington Gas Company, Nicholas
lin: the magistrate of that part of
Fairfax. and DR.. J. w. Hollingsworth
of Washington. Mr.. Grimm owns the
log house which Tom Peacock built
In the forest The original logs are
still in the house. but the architect
has built another house around and
over them. and one would not suspect
that the handsome structure began
its career as log house. The ashes
OF Tom Peacock rest in a graveyard
about mile away, and if his spirit
strolls over to the old-new house he
must feel sense of amazement at
the way things have changed.
= When the Rambler climbed ont Of
the steep valley of Difficult run and
came to the little open-faced wait
ing room labeled Peacock" a road
leading to still higher land called to
him to follow it, and he obeyed. So
Tar as traffic. speed and accidents are
concerned it is conservative little
road. which is not in the same class
boulevard, the Observation-Disclosures
ville-Frederick pike or even the
state road from Anacostia to La
4ioto, oSueulCl OF Cndpel fOlnt, Dut
the little old road that leads up the
hill serves its purpose and its pa
irons. In accepting the invitation of
road to walk on it, the Rambler
makes point never to find fault
with 1t, although he sometimes feels
that. road can be too long. Near
the brow of the hill a path leads
from the road to a beautiful buff
colored house, with wide and shady
porch through which breezes always
blow. The pillars of the porch are
round and big, brick chimneys rise
above the shingled roof and oak
woods form the background of the
home. Red climbing roses have spun
themselves over one end of the porch,
and birds have built a nest under its
y charm about the place. The
Rambler once met up with some
other tramps. who said they could
read the character of people living
within by looking at the front gate
of their homes, the front door, the
window curtains or something to
that effect. The Rambler cannot read
character as well as these other
tramps. but he felt when he knock
ed on the front door that within the
house were some good books, good
pictures and all that. Nobody was at
home. 1t was Sunday morning and
the good folk who live there were,
OF course. at church. It is the home
OF the Rev. A H. Sedgwick. and he
calls his home Laurel Cliff"
The Rambler moved along the road
to the next house, which is the home