Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1925-09-27

ing care beneath the magic hands of
Mrs. Mcdowell, 1t Is one of the most
dignif1ed and honey" of residences.
There is individuality in every line
of the house and in each piece of fur
niture. 1t is that rare thing In this
day Of apartments and interior deco
rotors-a genuine home, rejecting the
personalities of its owners. No music
room could be more charming than
the low-raftered, book lined room
where stands the bust Of the Ameri-
can music master on baby grand
piano with tall iron candelabra to
shed light on both the likeness of Ed
ward Mcdowell and on the huge pile
of wellthumbed manuscript of his
music with many annotations in his
fine, painstaking handwriting. that
lies on the window seat that hugs the
wall on the side of the room.
4 X
lust below Hillcrest is the farm
house where those live who care
for the beautiful herd of pedigreed
Guernsey cows that make Rosa Bon
heur-like pictures in the pastures en-
circling the estate. and handle the
many other duties involved. Still be-
low the farmhouse and we'll kept
miniature colony of chicken houses, a
veritable watch dog at the foot of the
hill and on the main road of Peter
boro. IL the guest house, where spe-
cial guests of the colony are housed
and fed during short weekend to
fortnight visits and where the
''other" halves of those colonists who
have entered matrimony. may reside
while the artistically inclined half"
of the family works on at the studio
and colony hall.
The ManneX ia guest house annex
SO named because originally used to
accommodate colonists of the mascu-
line sex, Is a bit further down the
main road and separated by vivid
old-fashioned garden from the tea
barn, a delightful building where tea
is served and the published works Of
the colonists are sold for the benefit
Of the colony. An irrepressible little
creek with busy falls opposite the
Mannex forms rear "wall' to these
places.
To find the real heart Of the entire
colony, however, one must climb the
hill past Hillcrest, cross one of the
many winding auto roads that out.
line the arteries of the colony, and
plunge directly into virgin woodland
with a crude two-plank walk as the
only indication of human presence.
The complicated laces of luxurious
ferns border this walk, little chip
hunks scurry into the offing, many
colored toadstools rear their pleated
umbrella heads above the pungent
pine-needle quilt of the rich soil and
clunps of wax-like Indian Pipes add
to the delicate tracery that Nature
has spread here.
It Is not a long walk to the log
cabin which Mcdowell built himself
in this woodland, above a spring that
is now disused but still possesses
messy charm. Perhaps five minutes
Of leisurely walking from the road
will suffice to bring this spot in view
yet 1t has the aloof atmosphere of a
real adventure into a wonderland such
as Lewis CAROLS beloved Alice found
through the looking glass.
The cabin is only large enough to
contain one fair sized room with it's
fire place-an Indispensable item in
any building In the foothills OF the
New Hampshire mountains-and the
few pieces Of simple, practical furni-
ture that Mr.. Mcdowell used while
working there. The small, diamond.
shaped windows, considerably greater
In width than in depth, give the Wis.
itor to this shrine Of American mu.
steal art. glimpse Of the center a
the room and q clear view Of the