Evening star., 1922-01-01
FRAME house of unusual siz

~ stands among old oaks, ard
~ the trees guard the house 50
stoutly and wrap their sum-
mer leaves around 1t so closely that
It is hard to get picture of it except
when frost and cold winds have put
the oaks to sleep and unleaved them.
From the MuIrkirk road. just east of
where it crosses the Washington
Baltimore boulevard and the steam
railroad tracks, an avenue of oaks
or an avenue bordered by oaks, leads
to the house. From the railroad sta
ton at Muirkirk curving roadway.
bordered by naples. leads to the
house, but the main way is through
the ranks Of oaks.
In this park, where the oaks, be-
cause Of their number and size, rule
all the other trees. there are some
pyramids and round-pointed towers of
green. These are cedars. holly
tree here and there helps the cedars
to give the rural picture touches and
trimmings of evergreen. The ground
is ankle-deep under dry, brown leaves.
fallen from the oaks. and under the
dead leaves is r widespread. heavy
mat Of honeysuckle. Here, where the
wind has blown away the dead leaves,
heaping them in drifts and ridges.
patches Of honeysuckle lay fresh and
green. winter not yet having been
rough and cold enough to turn the
hardy foliage to red and purple.
The big house sits on hillock
above the boulevard and the great
way Of steel rails, ties and broken
rock. and near the house this ii!locH
has been t. rraced and over those
terraces honeysuckIe grows. Wide
porches are at the east and west
fronts Of the house. The house is
rectangular, three stories high, and 1t
Is four stories II you count the brick
walled basement as one story. The
weatherboarding has been painted a
tawny color, the roof is red. the win
dow blinds are green, and four red
chimneys point above the roof and
reach as high as the top branches of
the old. tall oaks. There are many
windows in the house on all four
sides, and they look out upon the
gray anad wintry world in cordial
and contented way.
4 y Il
DID it ever seem to you that win
- dows have expression? To the
Rambler some windows seem to stare
in hopeless way. as though they
were without friends. without love
and without prospects Of seeing bet
ter days. Some are full of pathos in
their warped and painless frames.
broken and patched panes and cracked
and twisted shutters. Some windows
are prim and prudish. and you feel
that you dare not look at them too
long. and dare not smile at them or
wink at them. lest they blush and
take ofrense. Other windows, trimmed
about with merry curtains and hav-
Ing flowers in them, as IL wearing a
nosegay in their hair, have flirta-
tious look, and you are almcst
prompted to walk UP and pat them
on a pane or chuck them under the
window sill. Some windows have an
austere and cold. aristocratic look.
and to men who walk along they
seem to say, Thou tramp! knowest
not that you and / belong to different
sets?" Other windows look at you in
a
We'll. 1 cant quite make out who
you are, but I'm right giah 10 see
YOU Just the same" Other windows
have 4 jovial look; that is. they did
have a jovial look a few years ago.
You might have seen lights in these
windows and have heard within the
tinkle Of glasses and the voices of
men telling stories. uproariouslY
laughing. and singing, For we are
Jolly good fellows. We are jolly good
fellows" or something like this:
Give us a rouse. then. in Muytime.
For life that knows fear:
Turn nighttime into daytime.
With the sunslight of good ehe"S
For It's always fair weather
When good fellows get together
With a stein on the table and ,ous
ringing clear.
When the wind comes from Cuba.
And the birds arc on the wing.
And our hearts are patting juba
To the banjo Of the spring.
Then it's no wonder whether
The boys will get together.
With a stein on the table and a cheer for
For VIC know the word is glorious,
And the goal a golden thing.
And that God is not censorious
When his children have their fling.
And life slips its tether
When the boys get together.
With stein on the table in the fellowship
Of spring.
: But most of those old windows have
a blue and detected look now. All,
dear me! Those are three verses of
the old stein Song" that came to me.
1t is the stein Song" which Richard
Hovey CDick" Hovcy) wrote, and
which Frederick Field Bullard Gust
Fred" Bullard) set to a glorious
melody. Does it awaken memories?
Poor Dick Hovey has been sleeping
under the sod for a good many years
now in the family burying ground at
Andover. Mass, and his father, Gen.
Charles Hovey, and III good mother,