Evening star., 1924-08-12
THIS AND THAT
By c. E. TRACEwELL.

Like all railroad stations, large
or small, the waiting room of the
Washington-Virg Railway at
Twelfth street and Pennsylvania ave-
nue. offers minute by minute the real
stuff of life.
This is no ornate place. The visitor
finds no marble walled rooms, playing
fountains or red-capped porters at
the station which faces both on his
toric Pennsylvania avenue and on D
street, where these streets meet in a
triangle, looking across at the Post
Office Department.
Here is just an everyday waiting
room. where Virginians and Wash
| ingtonians wait to take the cars, run
on good schedules, to Alexandria and
Mount Vernon. Tourists by the hun
dreds, over the months, sit in this
| station.
1t is not much of a place to look
at, yet. regarded as the starting place
| for the trip to one Of the nations
greatest shrines 1t takes on an i'm
portance it otherwise would not
possess.
This simple waiting room is re-
membered today by thousands Of per
sons throughout the United States.
who, on their visits to the National
| Capital. sat On it's uncomfortable
benches while waiting for the cars to
| take them to the tomb Of Washington
X X **
Waiting for trains sometimes is
counted a bore, but, like most every
| thing else in life, approached the
| right way, may become an interesting
pastime. 1t is one which the average
man and woman ought to learn, for it
| enables them to pass away the neces-
sary time agreeably, at the same time
| permits them to pick up first-hand in
| formation on life.
More people need firSt-hand con-
| tact with other people than suspect
| it. Take your Government clerk, who
| goes down town in the morning, sits
at his desk all day, then rides back
home in the evening, sprinkes front
and back yards, goes to bed.
He needs a good dose of other men
about as much as anything else to
jostle him out of his rut. No. not
| the rut of the job, the rut of every
day living. To be in rut is usually
| taken to mean to be unable to rise in
ones work, but more often than not
| a man is more in a rut in his daily
thoughts. His mental processes are
running in grooves creased with the
oil of time, and he knows it not, but
is perfectly satisfied with himself.
What we need to rustic US out of
these we'll worn thought grooves is
more contact with others, more view
points, more interests outside our
selves.
For a beginners course, I recon-
mend a few minutes in the old-fash-
ioned railway rooms at Twelfth
street and Pennsylvania avenue.
More than any other similar place in
Washington they remind one Of the
small town depot
Here daily men and women, fresh
from the grand old state of Virginia,
wait for the cars Here hourly, tour
lists from all parts of the United
States sit expectantly, waiting for
| the big cars which will bear them to
Mount Vernon.
Here is the rush and hustle of
station in little, tempered by the
| placidity of the South. Here spec
tator becomes a sort of contact
man." rubbing elbows with the good
soil of an old State, and imbiding
something, at least, Of the traditions
of the Commonwealth.
The rural character of nearby Vir-
ginia shines out in most Of the per
sons who daily sit in the station
One would be tempted to call them
"clodhoppers," did he not know that
| the term is often used in contempt
AS matter of fact, a real clod-
| hopper is the man who feeds this ma
| ton. He hops clods because he has
| to, the same as a city man hops out
| of the way of automobiles. The clods
| are in his way, and he hops over
them, or, rather. plows his way
| through them.
| 1 like clodhoppers.
| At the station under discussion one
\ can see more simon-pure clodhoppers,
| in the best sense of that word, than
| in any other room in Washington.
They have no shrinking violets in
| Virginia, judging from few minutes
| in the role of passenger, sitting bolt
| upright in an attempt to make the
backs of the benches conform to
| normal spine.
| Such healthy looking women and
| girls they are, who come in from the
| country every day, sit in that station.
| spread out from the front door to go
| shopping, coming back later in the
| day to sit once more, take a car for
| home.
| creature not too bright or good
4
| For transient sorrows, simple wues.
| Praise. blame, love, kisses. tears and smiles.
Wordsworth might have had Vr-
| ginia women in mind when he wrote
those lines, so we'll do they fit the ma
| jority of girls in the station.
| They are buxom, wholesome, with
plenty of tan on their cheeks. They
like white stockings and black patent
| leather shoes. They abhor the fash
| ionable nude shades in stockings evil
| IDENTIFY, for they never wear them.
Their dresses may not be in style, al
ways, but they are fresh and clean
and becoming. No one need help
these damsels across the street. They
! can manage by themselves, thank
you.
| In the station six women and girls
| and two men attempt to make their
| backs conform to the decided curve
| of the long benches. Bench manu-
| facturers once upon a time got the
/ idea that the much-curved seat back
| was the thing. 1t looks comfortable.
Sit down, however, and the sitter
must try to make his dorsal curve At
| the outside of sphere, a thing that
nothing short of monkey or a con-
| tortionist can achieve. ~
| Six narrow telephone booths line
the far wall, while to the windward
the ticket seller-a woman-sits be-
hind her cage, exits being to either
side of her. vacation Days! Watch
Out for the Childrenw vividIy. if
somewhat enigimatically. proclaims a
| yellow poster on the wall.
A conductor enters.
| Mount Vernon and Al-ex-and-
ria, Alexandria and Mount Yer
non," he proclaims.
| Four Of the six walters arise and
hustle out, two going by the east