Evening star., 1919-03-23


obscured now. Did 1t ever occur to
you that one of thes magic pictures,
drawn and colored by Nature. is al
ways something like q moving pic
ture?
X
No doubt you have thought Of 1t.
1t is different in spring, summer, au-
tumn and winter; different in sun
shine. mist and moonlight; different
at sunrise. noon and sunset; different
in snow, frost, rain, haze. wind and
calm; never quite the same.
Some Of the little children who
peeped over the sill Of that old
broken window to look out upon the
big new. world grew up In the midst
of that scene. The dull ones among
them were impressed by its beauty,
though they lacked the verbal flexi-
bility to translate their sentiment
into words. but they felt the power
of that landscape just the same. The
highly intelligent Or sensitively in
telligent felt the thrill Of 1t and car
ried the image of that vista in their
memory wherever they went. Many
men and women who are now follow
ing these lines see in their memory
pictures that were familiar to them
in their youth. Perhaps 1t is a bloom
ing orchard reaching from the house
down to the spring over which giant
chestnut trees spread their boughs.
Perhaps 1t is a stretch of fields that
are green with oDrn or tall blossom
ing tobacco, with high ridge in the
distance on which white house
stands. Perhaps it is a lane leading
out to the big gate where the main
road goes by. Perhaps it is garden
with box, lilacs, roses, mignonette,
jonquilS, daffodilS and crepe myrtle.
Perhaps the picture is Of Maryland
gray barn whose rafters and warped
planks are stepped in the fragrance
of tobacco. Perhaps it is an icehouse
sunk deep in the ground and covered
with a peaked, shingled roof. Any
how, everybody must have some loved
picture in the gallery of memory. and
that picture is Of something known in
youth.
1t may be that some children who
knew the picture of creek and road,
hill, gaunt sycamores, ragged birch
and sharp-to topped cedars which the
Rambler has been looking at through
the broken window of the abandoned
moved away to other parts of the
world have recalled 1t many times.
Perhaps in Washington today some
whitehaired men and silver-haired
women, reading this. will lay down
the paper for moment and say, The
dow Of my childhood home" The
Rambler believes that he sometimes
recalls rosy and golden memories to.
his readers. This week he received
number of letters. Some are merely
commendatory and are of no interest
to other people. no matter how pleas
ing they are to the recipient. Some are
informative in q way which fits them
into this work. A short one comes
from John H. Magruder and 1t fol-
lows:
The account in last Sundays Star of those
,snsssa in the aseDI HerT"n Ghap
an old maid. She was the Oldest Of the fam
lily. Mary c. H. Carter and Rebecca J. Da-
wilson were my aunts. The last named mar.
ried Davidson, who was descendant Of that
Square. When Ben Butler was living she put
in his hands a certain piece Of land to see II
she could not be paid Tor 1t, a. 1t was being
used for other purposes than the original Da.
wilson gave 1t for. After Buffers death moth
ing was done.
Here is arrother letter which, gives
some facts about the Hebb family of
st. Marys county:
i always look in The Sunday Star for your
articles and enjoy reading them so much, par
ticularly those about Maryland, as ali INV
fathers people were from that state. In last
Sundays Star you wrote about the Beans and
spoke Of Vernon Iebb He was my ancestor
and was lieutenant colonel in the revolution
and in 1852 was a justice Of St. Marys conntv
In your researches of the old Maryland fam.
flies did You ever come across the Miliers and
the Biscoes? II two families of st. Marys
county are In my Hebb line and have never
been able to trace them.
John Hebb came to Maryland from Kent
England, with Lord CORVALLIS in 1871, and
had grants OF land In that year. His son,