Evening star., 1925-04-26

it on a bridge weathered gray and
spotted black and green with lichen
and moss. The stream banks are
covered with moss and above this
ferns raise their plumes. The water.
clear as though filtered, runs fast and
a million pebbles white and yellow
are its bed.
You expect the Rambler to write
something about the "purling brook
or the 'rippling brook" but he Will
sidestep those phrases as he did
winds soughing or signing through
the trees" The brook flows over the
gravel with a splashing note, and
seems hasty to reach the deep part,
between Blue Plains and Fox Ferry,
where Potomac tides VIII take il on
an ocean cruise, where sun and wind
will turn it into cloud, change it into
rain, and perhaps send it to water
foreign fields and quench the thirst
of plants it never saw before or per.
haps has not seen for 100000 years.
x x
IN the lowland. the road turns from
Il clay to coarse sand-white and
gray-and the little aplanat which is
the Rambler'S pocket Fl Ald shows
that this sand is sharp-angled frag-
mented quartz and quartZite, car
ried to this valley by rain.
In other times the road passed.
through the stream, but within a cen
tury it has crossed the water on sue
cessive bridges. The bridge is old.
but its oak is strong. At the bridge
rails many girls and boys have leaned.
looked into the racing water, and to
them came dreams that came to US
when we were children. Futures of
fame and riches have been read in
the water of this brook. Little girls
have seen princes come in chariots
to give them strings of pearls and to
say the lovely things that are written
in story books. Boys have read in
this brook that they would do deeds
to make the world acclaim them
Down the sandy road and over the
gray bridge Fame has come. Young
lovers leaned on the rails and held
sweet thoughts, for whose expression
they had no words. If the old bridge
and the trees that shade it could
talkl
From the bridge the road leads
over the level land. acres of which
are fresh plowed and yield the Spring
scent of garlic. To the left is a giant
oak and near it a small white house
a farmers cottage. Little children
come to the door to watch an un-
known man walking on the road and
carrying curious bundleS-a camera
JIldl pUCS was DIdCk. Il pIdle-CdSo Indl
long ago lost all color. and a tripod. 4
not unfriendly dog comes down to
the road and barks the warning. "a
stranger near" A man, brown from
sun and wind, and strong from hard
work. is plowing far away, and he
and the Rambler swap greetings by
waving arms.
A few hundred yards farther the
road begins to climb the south slope
80 Nv, IT, L., L
frame house in a garden of old trees
and younger shrubbery. The house
stands on a shoulder of the slope and
gives a wide view of the valley. 1t
is the house of Colebrook and was
built in 1908 on a tract named I'm
patent Brothers Joint Interest.
Colebrook house was built by John
Addison OF Gisborough. whose wife
was Sarah Leitch, daughter of An
drew Leitch. a soldier of the Ameri-
can Revolution killed at Harlem
Heights. John Addison bequeathed
Colebrook to his son, Anthony Addi-
son, who was born at Gisborough in
1903 and died at Colebrook in 1871
He married Mary Julia Thompson, a
daughter of William Mills Thompson
Of Culpeper County, Va.
You should remember-I beg your
pardon-you may recalI-that the
Rambler has written of the first
John Addison of England and Oxon
Hill, Md, who obtained many pat
ents to land in the Potomac valley.
Anthony Addison of Colebrook was
a descendant of the celebrated John
Addison who came to the colonies
in 1860. 1t was of Colebrook that |
meant to write when | began this
story, but l have given so much space
to the road that it will be necessary
to postpone the main part of the
story till next Sunday.
The house was locked and shut
tered when | got there, but l spent
thoughtful hour in the garden. 1t
is owned by children of Anthony Ad-
Olson and some of them pass part
of the summer there. AS the Ram
bier sat among the locusts and cedars
of the grounds, his thoughts were
of other years. In fancy he saw
children of Anthony Addison play
ing there. He thought he saw the
Oldest boy, John Fayette Addison
go from Colebrook as a soldier of
the South. John was killed in the
fighting at Williamsburg. The Ram
bier thought he saw Sarah Catherine
Mary, Olivia and dainty little Ketu-
rah Addison gathering old time flow
ers, and he thought he saw Murray
Addison and his brothers, Arthur
Dulany and Anthony Calls Addison,
playing boys games. But this is all
the Sunday Editor will stand for to-
day and the Rambler hopes 10 meet
you at this page next Sunday.