Evening star., 1921-04-24

A VIEW OF n
liam e. Herries. who died May 16. 1898,
aged IS years By birth a Britaine
IA good Soldier, A good husband, A
Kinde Neighbours"
MOT line has the Rambler been
A~ able to learn of this man more
than is written on his tomb. Yet
he may have been a prominent citizen.
Perhaps he was wealthy and his poor
Ineighbors laughed at his poorer
jokes till their sides ached: or, per-
haps they sat silent and charmed
while he gave his opinion, which he
got out of a newspaper, as to what
try from ruin and disgrace. for no
doubt the colony of Virginia was
Threatened with disaster just as the
United States has been facing the
greatest crisis in it's history ever
since it was born.
Perhaps this man who had sue
ceeded as a farmer was often called
! upon by the directors of the Dunn
fries Lyceum and the trustees of the
OccoQuan Academy, If there were such
| institutions. to talk to the students on
How to Succeed or to deliver an ad-
dress on the international Relations
between the Hindoostanees and the
Cherokee" or The Relation Between
the Red Rays of Mars and the Fiscal
Policy Of the Athenians," or The In
/ 1uence of the Poetry of Bryon on the
Rate of Foreign Exchange" or "A
Comparison Between the Rich Colors
of Raphael and the Pallid Marbles of
Phylias." Probably. being a success
full farmer. it never occurred to the
people to call upon him for advice as
to how to keep potato bugs from
chewing up potato vines or how to
keep cabbage worms off the cabbage.
You know today that when man be-
comes eminent in making steel rails,
or mining coal or picking pigs feet,
hosts of US sit enthralled, while he
gives us his opinions on government
and art.
!! But we really must travel along the
road If we want to get to Ripon Lodge,
the American ancestral hall of the
Blackburn family and place about
which the Rambler hopes to tell many
facts that will interest you, if YOU
are interested in people who passed to
the skies long. long ago, or perhaps
whose spirits may not be floating
1oyously at such great heights, but
are Still dwelling among the scenes
they loved before there came to them
that strange translation we call
DEATH
The Rambler crossed Neabsco
creek. where it is narrow-that is.
about two miles west of the Potomac.
Straight ahead points an old road
which the Rambler believed to be
that road which the early Virginians
travelled in passing between Dunn
fries and Occoquan. The good road
turns to the right. passes east along
the north side OF the creek. climbs
to high land and turns north. Fol-
low that road about mile from
the bridge over the narrow part of
Neabsco creek and you come to a
private lane. which strikes off from
the left side of the road. Tall wal
of the lane is bordered by an apple
1t was not this spring. but last
November that the Rambler came to
this lane and stopped to rest A
long walk was behind and ahead of
him and some walnuts and apples.
both of which fruits were scattered
on the ground, promised a good
lunch-and kept the promise. It was
a Waldorf salad in the rough. Being
would try the old lane for adven-
ture. He reasoned that it must lead
somewhere. because that is a habit
lanes have. So. speaking to the old
lane, the Rambler said: Lead on.
thee! And if thou. wilt bring me
to a spot which furnisheth a story
L Will sing thy praise in print"
THE lane led up a hill. turned
this way and that, and when the
Rambler had followed it a sufficient
distance and to a sufficient height
he saw a big frame house. gray with
age and bearing some of those marks
which years put on houses as we'll
as on men. Old garden shrubs grew
around. good-natured horse browsed
and the place afforded a view so
fine or IT, Potomac. Neabsco, the
intervening lands and the wooded
hills across the shining water that
such WEAKNESS as the Rambler had
Ielt was now not WEAKNESS at all.
house came a man. He had left his
hat hanging on wooden peg in the
broad hallway and his head was COW
cred with a shock of gray hair. The
Rambler spoke and he spoke. The
man with the grayer hair told the
stranger with the camera that the
place was called Ripon Lodge. and he
said his name was Thomas Marion.
mot Tom Marron of the post office.
the old 1st Regiment and the battery?
Well. well. how glad l am to see you!
Funny that we should run into each
other down in this neck of the woods.
amt it? You're looking we'll. Tom.
had lost track of you and l know
that great numbers Of the old boys
up town will read of this happy
meeting with interest"
And so forth. But the long ans
pleasant talk which Tom and l had
as we sat on the grass under the
hn, o ant voGx trnn
is not part of this story. You turn
ed to this column to read about Ripon
Lodge and you are going to get it if
you hold on long enough and don't
tire. Tom led me along a path which
ran south from the house and through
woods Of oak and pine 10 the south
ern tip of the ridge on which the