Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-01-06
THIS AND THAT
BY CHARLES E. TRACEWELL.

| and their beauty, he will realize that
this Is an expensive one. The fireplace
at its bottom works splendidly, he can
tell that from the plume of smoke
chimney of brick is Surmounted with
cap of concrete to keep away the eff
fects of weathering
Farther along the road we come
across an old house whose chimney
| plainly shows the effects of disregard
| for chimney topping No cap was placed
on this one, and now its topmost bricks
are split and cracked, under the inf1u-
ence of rains and SHOWS, freezes and
thaws, and the everlasting sun.
X X
Thank God for the sun! There is no
home along this road, no matter how
well built, which is not warmed up
by 1t in the afternoon. There is no
telling how much coal, oil and gas are
| saved home owners of the nations be-
cause the sun shines. And when it
does not every home owner knows how
much more heat it takes to keep a
house snug and comfortable.
The road winds here past a house,
deep-Seated IN its yard, before which
hangs a bell over a gate. One wonders
who they are who pass here and 10 they
invariably ring the bell Its clapper
stands at attention, waiting for the i'm
pulse to send tinkle over the neigh
borhood. One wonders If it tinkles, after
all, for it has something of the appear
ance of cowbell.
Up the road farther is home with
its number, plainly marked on a carven
heart, dangling from a crossbar. Here
Is an idea for bridge hounds. Four
homes, one after the other, might put
forth their numbers on a heart, dia-
mond, spade and club, or the golf en-
thusiast suspend his from a club i'm
printed on rather large golf ball. A
small horse might mark the home of a
horseman and a dog a dogman. Surely,
If "horseman" IS a good word, dogman
ought to be. The world of men has
long paid tribute to the dog, yet has
continued strangely enough, to accept
the epithet "dog" as one of the worst
The horse, by reason of its ancient
usage to man, has escaped somehow the
ignominy of being converted into an
oath.
The wild life of the road is not so
plentiful now as it was a month or so
ago. Perhaps the chill Winter, accom-
panying the prevailing drought, has got
In some OF its evil work and removed
from the scene many of the older squir-
rels and rabbits. The birds are few and
far between. Recently we saw a dozen
or so blue jays quarreling among them
selves. But few squirrels dart across
this narrow strip of asphalt dedicated
to the automobile and its uses. They
have more sense.
Dogs occasionally trot along, seeming
to pay no attention to approaching
cars, but no doubt they have their eyes
on them all the time Occasionally one
viii see, with start, some poor fellow
who was too slow in the crossing Now
he stretches cold and stiff in his con-
gealed blood. Or here lies poor Tom,
his gray coat covered with Frost only a
bloody front paw, curiously red on the
bottom, to show what struck him in the
night.
Keep your eye on the cars ahead and
your ears open for those behind. Leap
to the left if they swing too near as
they roar by. Jump for your life, dogs,
cats, man! This Is a phenomenon of
the road outside the wild yawping of
Walt Whitman. He knew nothing about
it. This Is our modern country road,
offspring of the age, typical of us as
we are, like it or not.