Part 22 (1/2)

Seeing it was the postman with a letter, he said he would open the gate, so he pulled a rope--and presto! open it flew. He said he never opened it until ten o'clock in the morning and wanted to know if his mail could be delivered after that, which the carrier obligingly offered to do, by changing his route somewhat.

After that, for years, Mr. Postman was a friend to the old man, though he never really entered the house. Each month a check for twenty dollars would come from a nephew in Chicago, which the postman would take to Mr.

Berry with a note from the captain, asking to have it cashed, and specifying the number of dollar bills, fifty-cent pieces, quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies. A little colored boy who lived nearby was commissioned occasionally to purchase necessary food, but the old man himself never went out except after dark.

Finally, one day when the little boy came to do the errands, he could get no answer to his knock, so he got a man to lift him up where he could peer over the high board fence at the side and look into an open window. Through it he saw the old gentleman, sprawled out in a big chair, immovable. They broke into the house and found that he was paralyzed. He could not speak, but shook his head when they said they wanted to call help from the police. He was laid on a mattress on the floor, and before long, all his troubles were over.

His nephew came from Chicago, bought a lot in Rock Creek Cemetery and had the old gentleman decently buried. But not long after, his son in New York, reading of it in the paper, came down and had his father reinterred in the family lot in Oak Hill. So, in death, the old gentleman was accorded the honor of two funerals.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Courtesy Frick Art Reference Library_.

WAs.h.i.+NGTON BOWIE]

Chapter XIV

_Stoddert (Q) Street_

Coming east from Valley (32nd) Street is the lovely old house which the Seviers bought in 1890. It has never had a name. It was built by Was.h.i.+ngton Bowie, another of the s.h.i.+pping barons. His wife was Margaret Johns before becoming Mrs. Bowie. This whole block was his estate and was entered in his day through the double iron gates on West (P) Street.

The carriages pa.s.sed up and around a circle of box to the path, bordered with box leading to the porch with its lovely doorway. The doors opening into the hall that runs right through are of solid mahogany with big old bra.s.s locks. In the dining room is an especially beautiful white wood mantel, carved with a scene of sheep and shepherds. The tradition is that L'Enfant planned the garden, and also left his spectacles lying on the piano.

In 1805 the place was bought by William Nicolls of Maryland, whose wife was Margaret Smith, a descendant of Captain John Smith. They had two daughters, Roberta, who married William Frederick Hanewinckel of Richmond, and Jennie, who married Colonel Hollingsworth. The Hanewinckels used to come back to the old home sometimes in the summer, even to the grandchildren, and the descendants still love the old place and consider it their ancestral home, for they had it longer than any other family. Colonel Hollingsworth was the superintendent of Mount Vernon before Colonel Dodge. I remember Colonel Hollingsworth well, a tall, fine-looking old gentleman, with a long, white beard. Of course, in those days we went to Mount Vernon by way of the river, on the steamer _W. W. Corcoran_. It is still, I think, by far the most pleasant way to approach the dignified old mansion, and Captain Hollingsworth would often be on the boat and talk with us. I've never forgotten the dear old-fas.h.i.+oned nosegay he picked and gave me from Mrs. Was.h.i.+ngton's garden. Mrs. Hollingsworth was a tiny little old lady. I can see her now with her snow-white hair and her big, black bonnet. Poor soul, it was a terrible trial to her when the place had to be sold after her husband's death.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SEVIER HOUSE (BUILT BY WAs.h.i.+NGTON BOWIE)]

It was put up for auction in 1890, and Mr. and Mrs. John Sevier, who happened to be visiting Mr. and Mrs. Henry Dodge in Georgetown at that time, though they spent a great deal of their time in Paris, heard of the sale and bought the house on the spot. Mr. Sevier was a descendant of the famous Tennesseean of that same name. Later they added the wings extending far out on each side, which are really two charming little houses. The old garden is still full of wonderful box, and besides, there are lots and lots of lovely roses, the pride of their stately mistress.

Mrs. Sevier told me of being at a spa in Germany one summer when she was young, with Mr. Sevier. When they asked for the first floor apartment instead of theirs on the second, they were told by the proprietor that it was engaged for ”some Englishman; he did not know whom.” It turned out to be the then Prince of Wales, Edward VII. The prince, on seeing her, asked to be presented. She was very beautiful then, tall and fair.

She met him three times, in the garden or at the spring. When he was leaving, he asked to say good-bye. She, unthinkingly, stood on the step above him, (a terrible _faux pas_, she learned afterwards), gave him some roses, and he presented her with a bouquet surrounded by lace paper; it was the custom, always, on leaving a place.

When my father built his house in 1884 on the southwest corner of Stoddert (Q) Street and Congress (31st) Street, it was in part of the orchard of the old Bowie place. Some of the pear trees were still there.

Today there are six houses on the lot where his house stood with its big gables and its many porches, surrounded by a fine lawn in which he took great pride. This house caused a good deal of comment at the time of its building from the fact that it had a bathroom on every floor, one being, of course, a ”powder room.” But to have a bathroom in the bas.e.m.e.nt for the servants in those days was unheard of. It was just as good as the others, a tin-lined tub, of course, would be horrible to the present generation!

The house was always br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with people, young and old, for occasions both grave and gay. One very grave one happened about two years after we moved there, and another ”first” in Georgetown was there--the first trained nurse in Georgetown. Early in the month of May diphtheria seized the eldest daughter, then about fifteen. Two days later, another succ.u.mbed, a beautiful little girl of five. There was no anti-toxin in those days. In four days little Eleanor Hope was dead. Two days later a little cousin visiting there, was taken, and two days later still, the three remaining well children were sent out one afternoon for a drive with Grandpa in the Dayton-wagon, an old-time version of the present-day station wagon. We thought it was kind of strange to go to drive in the rain, but it wasn't really raining hard, so we stopped where the Cathedral Close is now and picked bluets and violets. When we got home we were told we had a new little brother! Wildly excited, we rushed upstairs and a.s.saulted the door of mother's room. It was opened by old Aunt Catherine, the colored mid-wife, who had been told not to admit anyone, but mother called us and in we went. An hour or so later I was the fourth victim of diphtheria! I still have vivid memories of it all, and of Miss Freese, the trained nurse.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Courtesy Bolling-Fowler_.

THE GEORGE T. DUNLOP HOUSE]

She wore a uniform of blue and white striped cotton, long to the floor, but, strange to say, her hair was short, unusual for those days. I can still see the animals she cut out of paper--elephants, horses, and cows.

Dear Aunt Ellen and Auntie helped with the nursing, and father even stayed home some days to help!

These were some of the grave days, now to come to the gay. I remember the big reception for father's and mother's silver wedding anniversary, when I and my two chums, I in red, one in white, and one in a blue dress, stood back behind this fine couple, thinking we were so wonderful! My best friend lived right across the street, and we rigged up a line from my window to hers on which we sent little notes by pulling the line around.

My two elder sisters had many beaux, and I mean, ”many.” I can remember when some times twenty young gentlemen came to call on Sunday evening.

Of course, there were not many ”dates” in those days, unless to go to the theatre or a party of some kind, dancing or euchre.

One Sunday night when the butler was off duty, my brother, home from Princeton, answered the door bell. A gentleman entered, asking if the ladies were at home; he handed his silk hat to John, then his cane, then his coat, and then, he said ”Now, announce me!” He was announced! As he sat on the sofa by my cousin, a visitor from Kentucky, a real Kentucky belle, a horrified expression came over his face. She, thinking he had been attacked by the new disease, appendicitis, which she had heard was very painful, asked what was the matter, to which he replied, ”I have just discovered I have on blue trousers instead of black!” He was in his full-dress suit.