Evening star., 1924-08-31
Heard and Seen

Who remembers when he strapped
cap pistol around his waist grab
bed wooden sword in his firm
right hand and set out to fight
Injuns" in the old corner lot?
Memories like these thronged the
other evening in passing a red clay
bluff in which boys had dug caves in
their play.
1t does not take much of a hole in
cliff for boyhood's cave. Any sort
of indentation will do, mere hollow.
so long as it is fashioned other than
with human hands.
This superfashioning is done by the
imagination. wonder worker of child
hood, that transmutes shallow cavities
into depthless caves, makes lot
overgrown with weeds into a forest
vast. and peoples the quiet of a resi-
Dental section with strange and un-
couth peoples.
The jolly Roger was cut into the
red clay bluff in bold. deep outlines.
challenging mankind to mortal com
bat in the back alley. Those pests Of
full-grown boys. the IittfeSt children
were warned in accents grim: Keep
out"
1t was not difficult to see rear up
there against the cliff romantic full
sized figures. sporting flowing black
whiskers, ringleted hair. brass ear
rings. deadly derringers and gleam-
ing cutlasses.
"Yo, no. no. and a bottle of rum,
Is men on dead mans cheSt"'
So the immortal anthem of pirates
rings out on this front as of old.
Boys are never quite sure whether
those words mean that the famous Is
sat upon the treasure chest of the
deceased or actually upon the bosom
of the drowned.
Like all truly great poems, ''Yo.
Ho. Ho" is susceptible of at least two
interpretations, and no doubt any boy
can read any meaning into IL he
wants to- The thoughts of youth are
long, long thoughts. as Longfellow
said.
Corner lots are vanishing out of
Washington as a result of progress.
leaving behind only a memory and
an endless cry for more Fairgrounds.
In the old days the playground sit
uation was not acute, the children
having plenty of natural play places.
There was no organized play, in the
present sense of that term, but the
boys did pretty well for themselves.
Every residence neighborhood had
extensive. in which the small boys OF
the vicinity played their games, from
base ball to "Injuns."
The cleared lots, of course, were
used for real games. Weed-covered
spaces served admirably for jungles,
forests and even prairies. as the
weeds often were not too high for
prairie. at least the sort of prairie
the boys pictured.
of
started out in the morning. only to
meet disaster at noon in the jungle
at the hands-or legs-of tremen-
dous spider, black and hairy, that
put the whole tribe to flight.
These hot summer afternoons many
children play at plays. Getting
ready for the performance is per
haps the best part of all. When the
play is put on" in a back yard.
barns being simply nowhere, much
excitement sometimes interferes with
the fun.
But the preliminaries always fur
nish plenty of worth while play, es-
pecially il worthwhile subject is
chosen. Last week the children in
one neighborhood determined to have
a play built around Nellie Custis.
May Smith, 4 years old, was select
ed for the role of Nellie.
NOW you are Nellie Custis. remem-
ber." instructed Helen Jones. 10.
Now who are you"
81, May Smith," beamed Miss Smith.
"No. you are Nellie Custis," said
the other. Indignantly. You can be
Nellie Custis for two hours, can't
you? You can be May Smith for the
rest of your life"
CHARLES E. TRACEwELL.