Evening Star Newspaper, October 25, 1925, Page 80

THE SUNDAY STAR. WASHINGTON, 'D. ¢ OCTOBER 25, 1925— PART 5. THE RIGHT MISS WRIGHT BY WILLIAM DUDLEY PELLEY He Made the Trip to Bring Back to His New England Home the Girl He Wanted to Marry, But—— OB HOBART “killed” his engine | that any other car had passed that He worked his way | and allowed his coupe to roll to a halt. His head throbbed. Arms and shoulders felt afire. He whetted dust-caked lips. “So this,” he sighed wearily, “is the desert”’ He rode alone in the heavy machine, camping accouterments barnacled on running-boards and bumpers. Relax ing his grip on the big scalloped wheel- rim, he pushed up the rakish hand kerchief that bound his forehead and surveyed the expanse of sun-baked tmmensity stretching off into haze. He had reached the edge of a cedar . Below him western Arizona had me a_ universe with its celling yieited off. The sun's rays poured into a world of torturous aridity, of sand nd lava-ash, yuc and cacti, seemingly without a sieve of interven ing ether to mitigate the 1 fraction. As far as his eye could dis. cern, the Santa trail narrowed to @ pair of drunken wheel-t hub- deep In sand, curving down the near by grade and off into gridiron distance. For twenty miles could see it ahead—as though some capricious deity had scratched the burned, browned surface of things with a sharp knife-point and the earth bled yellow gravel Tt was desert with a vengeance, tourist searched a vista built planes only, vertical and horizontal where eise in the world did the sky ift o high or the panorama open so wide. The serried summits of lava mountains far to south and north re sembled the hac of titan elephants herded motionless in distance through the eons. Not even one lone buzzard flapped up in that measureless vault: not a sign of human life lay disclosed on all that expanse spread below Once, hour bygone, coming over a mountain with serub cedars dotting it like olive polka-dots on dun-colored Tabr 30b thought he discerned o other ‘car, not unlike his own, crawl- ing miles’and miles on ahead like an ant. But he had lost sight of it long since. Now he had the earth to him- self. “And I must cover all that,” groaned, “before I can get mor or water!” He looked at his watch. Thirteen minutes to 5. hours re and then sunset would try for the public ground at Kingman before callin a day The thought of his own Mountains of Vermont as he screwed the c on his smaller canteen and rolled a fortifying cigarette. He re- called cool rills, mossy ravines, invit ing openings into green pastures and along still waters where supper trout might rise to a fly. That was God’s country. He feli to wondering how Mary would react to such blistering tance hour after hour; day after She had never been Keen about tou ing; his message that he intended to drive his machine ac America and persuade her to end her Cali- fornia visit mething other than a friend” had met with lukewarm re sponse “Wonder if I'm making the m take of my life?” the man had asked himself a hundred times on that lone- 1y trek. *I like th sort of thing. She thinks it's barbaric. If worried about her endurance on a 20-day journey in a car as fortable as this coupe, what am I Jetting myself in for for life? Oh well,” he laughed, “they're all alike: their names are different!” Despite the hundred and miles he had driven since morning. he knew he could not tarry longer. His starter whined; his motor sprang alive, and the car moved forward down the grade. There just below him scocching his ture lay in v CICADAS kept up an i nt sizzling as theugh the desert floor were strewn with millions of invisible rattlesnakes. their sinister tails all snapping in chorus. The coupe caught in those resilient sand-tracks, remained in them like flanges. Bob's only control of his machine he main- tained with one cramped instep against the accelerator. After traveling through four or five miles of vucca, greasewood and Needles of the Lord he came suddenly upon an impassable barricade. The trunk of a dead yucca tree had been dragged out across the trail this “log” a board had been On it were red-chalked letters here!” and an arrow pointing south ward Bob Hobart swore h a tous route meant additional n before he 1 ion. Nevert} ing back to make cer no tourist car followed into which he must c the Vermonter rev churned in retrograde to a lowing I to mount out The he wrist- Two, Green a dis: Ly eighty on great those adven- N two | grub | I'm | com- | only | | way before him. up the waterles: square ledges mounted a slight ! river bed until qu howed ahead. incline. Then ahead in the corridor of open and appeared the prostrate body of a man! | Bob halted—sat staring. Legs and feet thrust out from the cacti, grue: some boots upturned, torso and head | out of sight in the nettles. No way of circling him was apparent. Bob must | stop and remove him or crush him. | In one of his suit_cases the tourist | had an automatic. The first week in | this desert country, he had worn it | beneath his shirt. Then he had car- ried it stuffed in the crack of his cush ions, finally packing it away alto gether. But the sight of those mute lezs so startled him that no thought of the weapon entered his head. Some desert “rat” had toppled or fallen down the butte, landing dead or un conscious at its bz Bob fumbled with the handle and got | the door open. Out on the running- }Im.dx'd he stepped and down the | sand. Leaving his throttled turning over softly, he appro that grisly figure. He got abreast of it and stared blankly No man lay there—only a pair of old trousers stuffed with straw. Boots had been added to supply grim | Queer practical jok2, this! Did any body think ' Then an lence: “Reach for a star’ll do! But r | don’t make the } * acrid voice sliced the si- star, stranger ch for it quic st fumble!” | I reftex | eyes. the low action Big Bob raised his Twenty feet from him, atop butte, stood 2 woman. She had one arm through the bridle rein a nervous calico pinto. Yet Bob | saw more than girl and horse. He looked up into the ugly black holes of | a revolver muzzle resembling | tunnels opening into disaste: “Did you hear what I said? | your hands toward heaven and doin’ it quick get ung—lady- dear-young-lady { You hoist those hands!"” No such command had ever before been addressed to Robert Hobart of Paris, Vi. His obedience was, there- fore, slow and clumsy. A lady road | agent! o still nettl | _“You me! then, turn round feeling foolish and not a little d, Bob did that also. Then a woman and horse slid down the butte. Cold steel punched in the small of his back. A businesslike hand patted around his belt, the pockets on his hips, the bulge of his khaki shirt be- neath the arms “Whar's your Griggs said so.” - In the car I've got a gun. But what's the large idea? Movie camera | hid around somewhere?" “You'll wish it was that. got Grgigs' boodle?” riggs’ what?" You needn’t try to act innocent like. Reckon I've met your kind befo | Wharever vou got it, you can shove | it out quick.” “May T turn around now lifted arms made agony shoulders. “Yaas, you can turn don’t try no fumididdle: Hobart faced about. middle twenties—about Bob's age— in short brown riding-skirt opened on a sunburned throat! On the horn of | her saddle she had hooked her big cow-hat. Bare of head in consequen her hair was a flood of molten gold. Comely she looked, yet her shapely body had the resiliency of rawhide and steel. The man asked whimsically “How did you ever get away off here—so far from the ‘Follies'2" “So far from what?" The ‘Follies.’ You never heard of the ‘Follies’? It's a Broadway show gun. You got one. Whar you Bob's up. in his tired ‘round. But ever you mind any Broadway shows! Keep vyour hands lifted, stranger. I could drill you dead right this minute and get the reward just the same. So you remember it and be careful! A girl in her| | out, realism. | Bob made a grimace. 29 11 show vou. And don’t you reach | vour gun! 1If you do I'll ttle you, | nger. 1 give you my word!” | ck toward the coupe the puzzled | fellow moved, and the girl followed af- | ter—pulling the horse. | Vow up with that hood, or I'll drill | you!" | W!ITH an “Why lift my monter unclasped the spring- hooks and raised the great tin cover. ou stand back! Get away 1¢ T could shoot these things but I'm takin’ no chances on | emptyin’ my guns!” And springing toward the car, keeping him covered with Iver, she struck savagely | at his s plugs with the barrel of the other. One, two. three, fo! 1e dealt ben zine went d fire and [ uneasy laugh the Ver| | t . five, six blows hood. The en- ad with an expiring back- the spark-plug wires swung ! As quickly she sprang away or perhaps the horse pulled her. “Well,” pronounced Bob, glassy- eved, “vou sure have raised hob with my bus. How far do you think I in go without s plugs?” You're stickin’ right whar | 1 am. Now what's it all about? “You in ey What’s put it into your head I'v Grigg’s money—whoever he may start your turnin’ car. 1 out what want Grigg's you “Reckon the make o' your car is| | enough for me." twin | Get | i | Reward for what, for pity sake?” | For you—if you don’t know it,vet There's a reward out for me? For doing wha “Keep up those hands! infant No. T wouldn't call you an infant. But you're not exactly a lady, either making me hold my arms up so with my shoulders afire from driving o far. Is this the way you treat visitors down here in Arizona?” ‘When they've acted like you have, yes?" . I'm not an a She was an amazing girl. There was | no doubt about it. Half a head shorter | than Bob she stood—and the Vermon- ter was 6 foot 1—built like a Juno tempered like a valkyr. Her eyes were nd | brown-topaz, her features ample, her | ren't you mistaking me for some one else, and haven't you overlooked my Vermont license plates?” “I'm not aimin’ to palaver much | longer with you, stranger. You never was courtin’ calamity closer than you happen to be right this minute!” “I can't make head or tail of what | it's all about, but you're going to owe | me a whale of an apology in about five minutes.” And_ the nettled, ex-| hausted fellow turned toward his care- packed machine. The vehement Amazon_pulled the plunging pinto Closer. Up toward the running board | Bob lifted one foot. Suddenly he | stumbled, lost his balance. lurched in- | ward against the wheel. Down on the horn-knob came his heavy forearm. | Grrrr! The horn screeched shrilly, | loudly, defiantly. It was a powerful blood-curdling siren | On steely hind legs the pinto reared | in panic, then wheeled and staggered. whoofing wildly in terror. The bridle | broke. Leaping clear of the ground, the horse went one way; its rider an- | other. * % { EN seconds later Iob Hobart held both guns and the girl a broken | bridle. The brone was racing down that river bed, head and tail lifted, stirrups slashing against thorn-brush | and greasewood. In twelve-foot jumps | it vanished In the faraway pear. | Bob straightened, grinning. “Well, turn about’s fair play,” he bantered. | “You put my bus on the blink. Now I've shooed off yours. Don't you think it's time to talk this little mess ¢ c-ive me my g-g-guns;” “Let's see you get them. The girl glanced down at her empty holsters. ‘Waal, T reckon you've trumped m ace, stranger. That loco brone has plumb busted everythi Bob “broke” the we v shaking | out the cartridges and thrusting them trousers pocket. Producing his he unlocked the lid of his run- oard tool-box. In it he dropped rth guns and snapped the lid back ‘ou really might hurt somebody with these, Miss Whateve Name-Is— My name's nounced, a bit “It's what? ‘Wright. Mary Wright, if vou any good to know."” *Huh?" “What's the matter with you? Can’t you hear Bob's jaw had dropped open. His | eyes were wide. He pulled the rakish handkerchief from his forehead with- out taking his eyes from her face. “Heavens!” he gasped weakly “What ails you? What of it?" “I'm bound for Pasadena- now—to ask a girl named Wright to— “Wal, what's so strange about that? Reckon thar's more'n one Mary Wright In this country. I got mail for another when I went one time to St. Louis, but, look here, stranger, what you aimin’ to do with me? I'm not aiming to do anything vith you—that [ know of, vet. I don’t quite get your ranger. You seem to talk like a gentleman. “Why on earth shouldn't 17" “But how could 2 man who and acts like a gentleman do such a | Wright,” defiantly. she, it does right Mary game, and act | | By | fulness | ros liams garage just befgre sundown. That's it on my left hin® wheel. Per- haps the bill, dated yesterday and re- celpted, would convince you I'm no desperado.’ OB found the ¢ in his wallet He carefully preserving all such to later compute the cost of his outing. Smoothing it out, he handed it Her face took on color. “And was you night befo t?” “Holbrook,” he answered. “And the night before that I put up at the Har- vey Hotel at Albuquerque. I've got that bill also.” “How'd you hapven to be one lone man drivin' through the same stretch ©’ country in the same kind o' car as that Eastern feller who looted old s ‘I didn’t know T was. It's a stock car—this coupe. There’s a thousand like it. Are you after a bandit— alone?” T was Where did this looting oeccur?” “Down to Kelson, on the new State road to Prescott, about 7 o'clock last night Jut it wasn't discovered till after the feller left this mawnin'."” “How far's this Kelson?" “Ninety-eight mile—by the But the w I took Canyon shortened it to s a matter of mileage, could I have been down around Kelson and in Wil too?” No, reckon vou couldn't, st Were you responsible for me detour, back She nodded. “I Kind o' figgered you'd come this And when Mister Griggs offered thousand dollars fo' recoverin’ his money, and the Kelson sheriff says et the bandit dead or allve, I reck oned d work m hunch. T brought some chalk” fo' the sign, and, ' at the deserted shack in the anyon fo’ a board, I found the dum- my-—the posse used it last April to trick the Dyker boys the same way. Then when I saw you turn from the trail I threw the sign away and fol- lowed you myself.” “Will your horse come back?" “Reckon he won't—not without bridle. He'll lope home to Kelson." She looked around in flaming mortt fication. *“And now I've smashed your engine so you can’t get out o' here vourself—and it’s six miles back to the “!‘l.“l' with night comin’ on. Oh, oh, Boh was across, road s, 1zer making sere on the trail?” w nk on the sand to be sitting here talking to a lady with the same name one 1 thought of asking to You live in Kelson, wherever it “I run a ranch a little way outside with three or fo' cow-hands. 1 took over the place when my uncle died. I thar h Hester., She's my susin-—and crippled. Are vou really Easterner? You really come from Vermont?" = “A littd Paris, “‘Seems funny tows up in the heart mounti Hobart's my nam Bob Hobart. I own a pulley-factory and chine shop up th But I had to k away this Summer and see a bit of America before I settled down-—or ) crazy. Same old program from Monday morning till Saturday night 1 thought I'd see nmething of the world when the war broke out. But caught the flu down to Camp Devens the time I'd recovered the show was over ‘It's down h “It's the only time of Chicago in my life.’ Her gaze dwelt on him closer—his id sique his wavy brown the st of his features, the humor in his eyes, the wist- about his mouth. Her color You're goin’ to be married, you called of the rst time you've ever been T've been west said? He laughed raggedly. “It has urred to me that I couldn’t con eive my Mary Wright starting off le-handed to bag a lone bandit 1 faint at the very thought of it.’ ntin’ down here’d be laughed She glanced quickly up at the Say, it's goin' to be dark pretty quick: did you know it? And I've got vou in an awful fix—if you're really not_the purson I thought you.” “Well. I give you my word of honor I'm not I don’t know what I can ever do to square myself.” “How far is it phone”” You'd have guess. It isn't son.’ “You mean arage?’” “Oh. T'm sorry!” And the girl with the sun-flooded hair wilted over with her face in her hands. Then she straightened suddenly. *Mister Ho bar will you let me search your just to the nearest tele. to go to Valentine, I ich further to Kel- 1 T'm miles from any “If 1 don’t find none of the thing: | warned him, to get the fuel. “That’s right,” he agreed, “we had.” ut he scratched his head. ‘“‘Out of hile it's light enough | You wait here. do.” He watched her stride away down the rocks and up the opposite grade. He dropped idly down on the running board, hammer swinging between his knees. What a pal—such a girl! He couldn't imagine the other Mary Wright saying, “You wait here. 1 know what to do. I've done it be- fore.” Mary Wright, formerly of Paris, Vt., would now be sitting help. lessly up in this car, whimpering over | their predicament. . Mary Wright of Kelson, Ariz., came back limping. But her arms were loaded with rakish roots from which the sand still sifted—a load for a man, by the way. “Fire them,” she ordered. “They'll burn for hours. i She found pancake flour, mixed it in a twinkling, flipped the griddles dex- | terously, all the time squatting beside | that spicy, crackling blaze. = Coffee | boiled. Bacon sizzled. She cooked their meal and they ate it together b the stranded car. The stiliness shrick- | ed at their eardrur ‘It is nice out he fsn’t it?"" the | girl drawled languidly, leaning back against t machine. “Reckon I never noticed it in quite this way before “I know why this trip has been tir-| ing me so.” he blurted. “I've been driving it alone.” sy Reckor company along.” He lighted a br tobaceo tasted delectable. can't go walking 31 miles in the dark, Miss Wright, suddenly. “Land’'s sake, did you think I meant to? I'm not afeered o' stayin’ out all night. 1 do it half the year, lookin' after my ranch. What's the matter with you? What you all fussed up about?" | ““Well, back in my part of the coun- | try people might think this situz tiol " “Would they? Folks down here are sensible. Pshaw! 1 ain't afeered o' companyin® you till mawnin'.” She was like h avapal County— big, open, frank, artless. Fob sprang up and stalked away. | In one vast, overwhelming revelation he knew what he wanted. And Fate had brought him three thousand mile great America to show it I know what to it is nicer to have r. Never had shag across hin * % HE stars came out—desert stars great, low-hung flares of vellow -andescence. The burnt orange and | old rose of the mountains faded. A cold wind stirred the greasewood. | Night was upen them The man looked up head. The Milky Way into its own. How high it vast, beautiful, terrif which God had made Ghostly hoots began sounding off at | their left, like moans of fantoms that directly over came steadily How world | TEN SECONDS were haunting that basin. “Those are owl; n't they?” the man whispered And the woman nodded. Her face was cupped by her hands as she sat cross- legged before the coals. Brown-topaz | eves were copper now. her silhouetted head a tracing of infinite grace. Slow- 1y, slowly, the embers died “Tl go out 10 the tragl in’ and pay some one to and tow you to Kingmar sed him. | “Never mind the morning. 1 don't| want to think the s ever to be a| morning. I've read about nights un- | der desert stars. Now I know what—-" 1 “But T've heard New England is a whole lot prettier. It's really awful common down here—just sand and mountains and me and sk 1've dreamed a lot o' what New England must be like: hills and trees and little old crooked lanes and old-fashioned houses and well-sweeps—and Paisle hawls. My mother had a FPaisley shawl. My uncle fetched it from Bos- ton. You ever been to Boston?" “Heavens! T know Boston fellow knows his pockets.™ “Then—you've really ocean?"” “Seen it! ummers at a time. fished it. crossed twi —" “What's it like?" She thoughtfuily at her palms born and raised right here in Yavapai. I went to St. Louis once, though, and saw the Mississippi. Is the ocean like the Mississippi?” He told her about the gruff old At-| lantic, and_th ht around them | deepened, deepened, till little foxlike ! in the mawn come in here * she prom- | like a seen the T've lived beside it whole I've bathed in it, portions of it picked ‘1 was | LATER BOB HOBART HELD BOTH GUNS AND THE HORSE WAS RACING OVER THE RIVER BED. barks, faint at first, grew plainer on the south. “You better unlock vour tool-box and give me my guns,” she suggested “We don't want no varmints gettir into our grub along toward m on £ that camp-fire fanning between them, stretehed themselves after chill night grew day had hot of the tiny owls came of ebony nothi around the The coyote-barks sounded the west and then worked the north. yw and then a leaped up in a litte ripple of = | yellow as a hen’s foot. A rakish wisp of dried greasewood stir Wit | 31 miles was no human whis while. numbing as Triple hoots from the crag “No. I'm watchin' the stars—and | thinkin’ o' what you been tellin’ me about New England. And I wisk ou'd call me Mary Makes me feel you just n't frie to talk > formal. “You want to see the ocean badly— M-M-Mary? ) “It'd be a dream come true “M-M-Mary!" “Uh—huh?" “Fate directed me_here, M the long way from Vermont, jus linger to this lonely desert basin with you.' ” He raised himself and what remained of their fi on her back, one arm thrown pillow her he: He could see profile, clear-cut as a cameo “‘Mary “Wh: “Do East, grinding the tor and shops, long for the She lay up to her Mister Robert?” 4 know how many men back lives out in fac kind GIRL A BROKEN BRIDL! with them in 1ded down « a dying camp fire t stars? women who'll rough it this glorious way warm earth. King up He heard o And do vou many 1w lor P Kkind o tolks who ca warm e and not streteh e faint Wes mer lyir cann fire self— wrong After a t since 1 looked heen entertaini swered, “Eve your chuck-box I n' some such though morning blew greasewood d the coyote The embers had died to lampblack long befo diluting t miles northw Chicago to. Li desert and y_winds « Spanish a4 away camp fir the Owl ¥ yaps di manded Boh his and his crunched pape Hobart engine T K ¥ Place Names in District of Columbié | Tell Interesting Story of Capit BY JEAN STEPHENSON ID you think of the names of the various sec tions of the city and won- der who named them and when? Strangers frequently comment on the place names of the District of Columbia and speculate as to their origin, while residents here use them daily without pausing to realize how much of the history and progress of the “District” they repre- sent. Yet as one learns the deriva- tions of the names of the locallties and streets here the whole develop ment and growth of the city !s un- rolled. First are seen the earliest explorers, like Capt. John Smith Henry Fleet. In 1608 Smith came up the Potomac nd visi the Indian village of “Nacotchtant just below the.Eastern Branch. This Indian word is believed to mean “trading place.” Capt. Henry Fleet in 1 called it * costines” and the | Jesuits later slightly latinized it tc “Anacostia,” which name has been applied to the settlement across the Eastern Branch of the river for three hundred vears, Gradually the | was occupied by the Eur patents covering lands were taken out. In Maryland in those days each man applylng for a land patent not only gave a descrpition of the land but also filed a name by which it was entered on the records. These names were chosen by the patentee at will, and some are most amusing. Many | of these names have been, with the passing vears, completely obliterated from common recollection but others are still in use. g Slizabeth’s”, the Government | Hospital for the Insane, on the hills beyond Anacostia, is so called because located o 'St. Elizabeth , under which name that tract was patented in 1663. “Glesborough” (as the old spelling has it), where ordnance sup- plies were manufzctured during the last war, was granted in 1663 also, while “Blue Plains” dates to_ 1662. The most familiar of the old land- patent names is that of “Mount Pleas- ant,” which was given to this locality when an older grant was re-surveyed soon after 1700. Probably few resi- dents of that tranquil section of homes at the end of the “Mount Pleasant” car | line realize that the name of their lo- cality antedates by nearly a hundred vears that of the City of Washington, | which has now engulfed it. Other grants were “Friendship,” to Thomas Addison and James Stoddart in 1713; and “Rock of Dumbarton,” in 1701 to Ninian Beall. The former | name is used not only as a designa- eve | | adventurers and Capt hereabouts country Z peans and | street who had in Con- influence nd prominence, long represented Maryland gress. It is well to remember these men, for to them is due not only the name of the city but also the system of names. Soon after underta ing the dutles of their office they wrote to Maj. L'Enfant that they had decided to call the new city “Wash ington” and the Federal ten square miles “Territory of Columbia.” This latter was changed to “District of Co- lumbia.” At the same time they outlined the plan of nomenclature for the streets, that the cast and west streets should lled for letters in alphabetical order and the north and south streets for numbers. The idea for this prob- ably came from Philadelphia, where numerical streets were laid out at the | first settlement and had proved to be a great convenience to the population of the town as well as strangers. The avenues were to be called for the States, names of the Northern States being used in the northern sections, and of the Southern States in the southern sections of the city This y as adhered to closely, except that many years Inter old Geor gia avenue was changed to Potamac avenue and the name of Georg given to Brightwood avenue. Later. s the city grew, particularly to the north, more avenues were lald out, the State names being used almost in the order of their admission to the Union. The one exception is Califor- nia, which was assigned to one of the first streets laid out above the old city line. * JFOR many yvears the city of Wash ington lay below Florida avenue. Outside that boundary line were many country homes and beautiful estates. Nearly all these homes have disap. peared, but in many instances their names have been retained and applied to a locality or street. Probably the best known of these places was “Kalo- rama. On the tract known as “Rock Hill,” reaching from Rock Creek to Floi avenue, a house was built in 1750. After passing through several hands it was purchased in 1807 by Joel Barlow. He had just then returned from an important mission to Europe and needed a suitable residence. With the assistance of Latrobe, who had supervised part of the construction of the Capitol, he remodeled the house and laid out the grounds in a beautiful and artistic manner. As from the house could be seen the full sweep of the Potomac. with the blue Virginia hills in the distance, while in the foreground stretched a broad, tree is “Woodle: built in 1800 by Phi Burton Key. He was a noted lawyer. though remembered chlefly today the uncle of Francis Scott Key. This place is still in existence on Woodley toad and has been kept up and « d for a century and a quar The name fis now applied to streets and to that section of the between the Connecticut avenue b and Cleveland Park. * % two ty JAMES land grants and estates have been perpetuated that it is interesting to notice the changes of name the locality now known as Cleveland Park Gen. Urlah Forest owned this tract and built “Re portion ¢ the property nherited by his grandson. George Green, who built “Pretty was pur- chased who called it of ma How ever, in spite of & mes for the estate, the cluster of houses which grew up near it in the 90s be came known as Cleveland F recognition of the residence the President Cleveland. Much more could be written of the sections of the city, but these examples suffice to show the age and interest of_their names. When strect names are discussed a fascinating fleld for research is open ed. After the alphabetical letier streets come streets with names of two svllables in alphabetical order. and then those with three syllables. The majority of the streets were named for prominent men and a col lection of their biographies would cover almost every phase of American life and activity, with a few world citizens added. ome are national characters, such s Jefferson, Hamilton, Tilden, Gar 1d, Irving and Lowell: while among others less widely known today whe memory s thus perpetuated are Com- modore Stephen Decatur of the Bar bary War fame; Crittendon, famous Kentuckian of the middle nineteenth Stephen Girard, the Phila delphia ' merchant-philanthropist: Ad Rodman, of the Spanish-Amer War; Gen. Upton, author of Military Tactics”; Albert Gallatin, Secretary of the Treasury _under Jefferson, and Maj. Andrew Ellicott, co-partner of L'Enfant in laying out ‘Washington The history of Columbia road fs in- teresting. In 1815 William J. Stone, |sr.. settled in Washington, from London where he was born in |1798. Tie was noted as an engraver on | stone and copper and engraved several coming | al City mayor of the whom is due told of the early whic ch tioned f the many even been howey and m names discusse not be said ace names of the will find a rick d for the most fas from which the re. > of the history of and of the city will nating ards in kn, forefathers indeed = research B wle Chance of Greatness. JHETHER 3 chances of rst child or your o Dr Te arch Asso statistical , according ciation tk studies of em Dr. Key ed to learn nent persons rding to Hygeia s was any scientif notion that the be ance of B died the famous Amer der Hamiiton lens and Mark usions were tha has not g fame. Cooper was t} 12 children. Gen. She. in_the middle of a large Key's studies seemed to indicate that the regular law of ave: ages was at work when it came position in family and in world affair war any and he the order of ing to do with t imes Fenim: | eleventh of man came family. Dr. Hunter’s Distress 7C0dc. SPORTS 7 SMAN and big-game hunt Allen Barrett of Lykens Pa., has just copyrighted a unique Idea for a national code of distress slgnals for persons who may be los injured or in need of assistance while traveling or hunting in parsely set tled reglon tevolver shot the signals, but shout, call or chief requi code widely follows: To signify “lost,’ | walt, one shot auick, wai shots quic two shots qui Rescuers _answer, number of shots, der—the shot, wait Sk er s should be used f the victim should whistle them. The e would be to have the understood. The code two shots quick “injured,” three shots shot; *stck,” fou one shot: “help wait, two shots using the e but in reserve or . two shots quick one wait covered expanse dotted with the build-| maps of the District of Columbi |ings of the new City of Washington, | In 1825 he cut a facsimile of the Decla the name of “Fine View” was selected. | ration of Independence on copper tion of the suburb near the District | line on the Rockville road, but is also ! the name of Edward McLean's beauti- KEEPING HIM COVERED WITH ONE REVOLVER. SHE STRUCK SAV, .Y AT HIS SPARK PLY S, hangas. twisting his way, steering around vucca trees, boulders, buttes and dunes, down along the dried-out bot- tom of a prehistoric river. Down, down, down—lower Jower—into country momentarily growing wilder and rockier-—his ¢ nosed its wav. Buttes and r vegetation shut off the northern view completely and @ mammoth basin floor opened ahead. I'm - lost!” Bob cried. any trail. 1've been side-tr: down here in this crazy chao d—off Not a sign of a tire-track revealed | you lift up your hood.” nker | Then between patches of Eculur high with repressed excitement. | brittle, gruesome vegetation he began | The mass of her golden hair ended in | and | plajnly it didn't approve of Bob's auto. “This isn't | about.” a single thick hawser braid that fell to her supple waist behind. Her pinto, however, promised trouble. | Wit & | clos whites of its eyes. “My dear flabbergasted slightest idea lady,” cried the | “I haven't you're ta young Bob, t what King | wa “You get back to your car—and just to make sure you don’t start off nig! re from his eyes. camping grounds in rotten thing as to rob old Griggs I haven't robbed old Griggs—or sun had begun the west. h his back toward it, to get its its * descent er to the coupe, sinking down to 11t snorted, pranced, and showed the | {7 19 o R . “Whar was | | you at 9 o'clock this mawnin Bob reflected. the |15 miles from Williams—heading this 1'd say T was 10 or ‘Can prove it?” the girl demanded. 1 can prove 1 stopped on Williams last ht. I bought a new tire in a Wil The girl drew | the | behind her. the bandit took from old Griggs’ store, I'm goin’ to penalize myself right anybody! Unless 1 did it in my sleep.” | proper.” The down “Go as far as you like. Looks as if Bob moved around | I'd got to stay here till I find a way to fix that bus.” * ok k% TTHBEY began unloading the coupe to- gether. Bedding came out; suit- es and cooking utensils came off. He handed out a five-gallon canteen of lukewarm water, raising an eyebrow at_her easy strength in swinging it Instinctively she sorted out_his camping accessofles. “We'd better start a fire,” she | ful estate on Wisconsin avenue. i * ok ok % HERE is considerable dispute as to 1 who should have the honor of [being the godfather of Georgetown. It was organized as a town in 1751, during the reign of George II, and laid out on the lands of George Gor- don and George Beall, whose father had settled on the site of the Indian [village of Tohogae in 1703. It is fre- | quently stated that it was named for | His Royal Majesty George, second of | the House of Hanover on the throne of England, bat it seems more probable | that it was for the two Georges, Beall tand Gordon, who actually founded it. Until very recent years the name was always spelled “George-Town.” George-Town remained a separate municipality until 1871, when it was taken into and became a part of ‘Washington. In 1791 President Washington ap- pointed as the commissioners to lay out the new Federal City, Gen Thomas Johnson, the first Governor {of Maryland, who had been a close associate of Washington in the Revo- lution and on certain exploring expe- ditions; Dr. David Stuart, a practic- ing physician of Alexandria, who had married the widow of Maj. John Parke Custis, stepson of Washington, and Daniel Carroll, a man of much However, as the taste of the day was for the classical, the Greek version of “Calorama” was used. Soon the spell- ing was changed to “Kalorama,” in which form it has survived. As the home of Joel Barlow, fa- mous as a poet, philosopher, states- man and philanthropist, Kalorama be- came the center of intellectual activ. ity in this country, and even after his death, the place, still In the possession of his family, was long a Mecca for the foreign visitor to our shores. During the Civil War it was used as a hespital. About this time it passed out of the Barlow family. As_the city outgrew its earlier boundaries, it surrounded and finally obliterated this one-time famous show place of Washington and its memory is perpetuated only in Kalorama helghts and Kalorama. road. The land east of North Capitol street and north of the city boundary, Florida avenue, was bought soon after 1820 by Joseph J. Gales, jr. Here he built a beautiful mansion in 1830, and named the estate “Eckington” for the village in England where his parents had been born and where his early childhood was spent. Eckington, England, has now been absorbed by Sheffield, just as Eckington, D. C., has been by Washington. Another estate whose name has been applied to its immediate locality | plate for the State Department. His wife was one of the earliest woman |engravers in this country. There is Columbia engraved by her He bought a large tract of land on the heights above Florida avenue and in 1842 built a house, called Clifton, at what is now the corner of Thir- teenth and Clifton streets. Later, ad- mirers of Gen. John A. Logan bought the place and presented it to him. It has been well kept up and is still in good condition. In 1881 Senator John Sherman fore. saw the growth of the city and bought 121 acres of the Stone Farm and laid out a subdivision, which he called Columbla_Heights. The hill on what 1s now 13th street was too steep for horse-drawn_vehicles, 8o the way to Columbia Heights was out Connecti- by a road which gradually climbed the hill, following the easy grades and slowly swinging east to Columbi: Heights. It became known as Colum bia road and is still so known, al- though street cars and all traffic to Columbia Helghts have been using 14th street for many years. Other streets are named for promi- families, such as Calvert, for the great family who founded Maryland, and Shepherd, for Wuhhlqm‘l great still extant a map of the District of | cut avenue to the city line and thence | nent Washingtonians or for Maryland | Climbing Fish. B. K DAS. a sclentist from * Orient, showed living specimens of the famous climbing fish of Banga India, at the recent meeting of the British Association for the Advance ment of Science. This species, known andens, qulite lives up to ! his’ name—"'scandens” means “climb ing"—for it does climb coco | tree Dr. Das, he ever, denied the rumor that it im des gardens and battles with its fellows lover angle worms as robins do. So used is this fish t» being out of water that it drowns . ept in it too long { It absolutely must have atmospheri | air to breatn | There are five species of Indian fisi | that have developed air-breathing aj- paratus, some with, without auxiliary gills. Thi as pointed out, is an example of present-day evo lutfon quite different from the it amphibians and higher animals rose a i { ‘,‘ As to Ball Lightning. [“BALL lightning” has thus baffied all attempts at exp ! tion. That it actually occurs cannot be doubted. A recent work on tha subject by Dr. Walther Brand contains an ‘elaborate discussion of 215 cases, reported by careful observers.