Chapter 14

_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 Washington Bowie, another of the shipping 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 passed 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 brass 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-fashioned nosegay he picked and gave me from Mrs. Washington'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.

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 basement 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 brimming 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 succumbed, 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 assaulted 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.

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.

On our side of Congress (31st) Street was one of the houses holding four old maids, the daughters of John Davidson, one of the oldest names in Georgetown: Miss Adeline, Miss Nannie, Miss Kate, and Miss Martha. Their mother had died on her knees in Christ Church from a stroke.

Across the street lived four maiden ladies by the name of Mix--one of their brothers married a Miss Pickle!

Of course, before Stoddert (Q) Street was cut through, the Bowie house adjoined the property of Tudor Place, and they were on a level. I can remember when the street was paved, and now that it is one of the busiest boulevards of the city, it seems almost impossible to believe that back in the nineties a houseful of charming-girls, real old-fashioned belles, used often to "erupt" with their many beaux from their home on the neighboring corner, at eleven o'clock some evenings, and have a dance right in the middle of the street--two-steps and waltzes galore!

On the southeast corner of Congress (31st) Street and Stoddert (Q) Street stood, until 1893 or 1894, the very interesting old house where Francis Dodge and his large family lived for many, many years. The illustration does not do justice to the dear old house, but I wanted to give some idea of it as a whole, so selected this one. The long, southern side overlooking the garden had tiers of white wooden galleries and the face of the house under them was plastered white. In the center of the long stretch of wall was a lovely, big doorway with a fanlight, of course, and at the end of the porch, a smaller door which entered a projecting wing of the house.

The place was enclosed by a low, brick wall topped with a white picket fence, and standing near the corner was a gorgeous horse-chestnut tree. Whenever I see one now, I recall this particular tree with its lovely blossoms in the spring and their delicious fragrance. A flight of wooden steps led from a brick walk at the gate to the gallery, and another flight from the same walk down into the garden. Under the porch was a brick pavement where was the pump, and then there was the garden--a wonderful old garden adorned with a maze of box which, of course, enclosed flower-beds.

The whole square, bounded by Congress (31st), West (P), Washington (30th), and Stoddert (Q) Streets, belonged to this estate. It was originally the property of Nicholas Lingan who owned the mill on Rock Creek, and who was a brother of General Lingan. At that time, these big places really were farms, with stables for horses, cows, pigs, and chickens.

In 1810 the property was bought by Francis Dodge, who, as I have said before, had come from Salem as a lad of sixteen to join his brother, Ebenezer, who was established in a prosperous coastwise shipping trade, dealing largely with the West Indies.

One of the first experiences young Francis had, after his arrival in 1798, was one afternoon when he returned from a row up the river, and as he was mooring his boat, he noticed an elderly gentleman hurrying down the street and out onto the wharf. The gentleman asked if the ferry was in yet, and when the boy turned to answer him and looked into his face, he saw that it was General Washington. Francis replied that the ferry had gone and, noting the terrible disappointment of the great man, offered to row him across the river in his own little boat. The General gladly accepted, and during the crossing asked the young man his name. "Francis Dodge, sir," the boy replied, at which the General exclaimed, "By any chance related to Colonel Robert Dodge, who served so gallantly with me during the War?" "Yes, General, he was my father." "Oh, indeed!" said he, "I am greatly pleased to know you, young man. You must come to Mount Vernon some time to see me."

Whether or not Francis Dodge got to Mount Vernon before the General's death the following year, I do not know, but for over forty years his grandson, Colonel Harrison H. Dodge, was the honored superintendent there.

Young Francis was taken into his brother's counting house, and a few years later, in 1804, was sent to Portugal to investigate trade conditions in Europe. In 1807 he married Elizabeth Thomson, a daughter of William Thomson, of Scotland. They first resided below Bridge (M) Street, west of High (Wisconsin Avenue), probably in Cherry Lane, where lived also, according to tradition, Philip Barton Key, the Maffits, and other families of distinction.

Mr. and Mrs. Dodge had the usual large family of those days, six sons and five daughters, and all grew to maturity. While they were still small children, however, the British came to Washington, causing great alarm to the citizens of George Town also. Mr. Dodge apparently sent his family out somewhere near Rockville, for this is a letter he wrote to his wife at that time. It gives an interesting picture of those exciting days:

Georgetown, Aug. 26, 1814, 12 o'clock A. M.

Dear Wife:

We have positive information that the British have left the City on the Baltimore road, and passed the toll-gate last night. Some of their pickets are still around the city.

We believe they are either going to their shipping on Patuxent or direct to Baltimore; or that they received information of an intention to attempt to cut them off. At all events I am satisfied you would be perfectly safe here, and much more comfortable than where you are. I wish yourself, the child, Emily, Frank, and Isabella, to come home and bring, if you can, one bed. Peggy and Betty can come if they please.

Not one Englishman has been in this town or within sight of Ft. Warburton below. They have burnt all public property in the city. It was a dreadful sight. The rope-walks in the city are destroyed. The General Post Office and Jail stand. I hope they will not return here again and can't think they will, they behaved well.

The town was very quiet last night and I got a good sleep for the first time. I hope you are well.

Yours affectionately,

F. DODGE.

Aug. 27, 7 o'clock A. M.

After preparing yesterday to send this, William came and advised to postpone till today. You can all come now in the stage, bringing all the books and what else you can.

We have no news today but expect the British are near their shipping. We have escaped wonderfully.

The stage ran daily from George Town to Rockville. I think it was also called "the hack," for, in old letters from my own ancestors at Hayes, out in that direction, they write of "sending the seamstress out by the hack."

As the boys approached years of discretion, not having been spoiled by sparing the rod, their father gave to each an identical circular, setting forth what should be their "guide through life." His admonition to "read the Bible daily and regularly," was based upon his own remarkable habit in that respect. That he managed to read five chapters consecutively every morning and thus encompass the whole in seven months, is borne out by the periodic notations in his Holy Book. The circulars read as follows:

My practice (and my advice to all) is: if you wish to appear decent shave every morning below ears and nose, cut your hair short all over the head, wear white cravats, no boot-straps or pantaloon straps.

If you expect or desire to live in old age with few pains, and in the meantime be clear headed and well, and thriving in your business, rise before the sun, retire early, taking seven to nine hours in bed. Eat regularly and moderately of plain food, plainly cooked; no desserts except green fruit, drink no kind of liquor except water and the like; use no tobacco in any way.

Read five chapters in the Bible regularly through, before breakfast, support religious societies and go to church twice every Sabbath Day. Take moderate exercise, attend to your business and keep it always in order and under your Government, never over-trade, hold your word as binding as your bond, be security for no one, seldom any good comes of it, but often miserable distress.

Be as liberal as you can, consistently, to your kin, if in need and worthy, perform all your duties to your family and neighbors.

The above I practice almost to the letter.

F. DODGE.

P. S.--Again, say little or nothing about yourself, your family, or your business. Talk but little--listen.

Speak as well as you can of all, expose faults only when you believe it well to do more good than harm, all have foibles and few are free from faults, most, some good traits of character.

This post script I am endeavoring to practice.

F. DODGE, 1847.

Act well your part, there all the honor lies, Read, heed!

The above attended to with strict economy, industry and like, will carry you through this life with honor and credit.

The education of the two oldest sons, Francis, junior, and Alexander Hamilton, seems to have been planned to fit them specially for commercial life, to succeed their father in his well-established business. Francis was sent to Georgetown College and Alexander to Princeton--he graduated in 1835. Robert Perley Dodge graduated from Princeton in two years, standing fifth in a class of seventy-six. He then entered a school of engineering in Kentucky. In six months he completed a major course. He rated so high that he was offered a professorship in mathematics, but declined, and became a civil engineer.

William and Allen Dodge received special practical training in agriculture and animal industry at the Maryland Agricultural College. Mr. Dodge bought William a farm near Hagerstown, and for Allen one near Bladensburg, but, due to the Civil War and the abolition of slaves, both of these highly developed ventures failed, and the farms were sold. Charles, the youngest, attended Georgetown College, and took up commercial and export business. In 1862 he was offered command of a Confederate regiment but declined, being a Unionist. He accepted, instead, the rank of major and paymaster in the Federal Army and served throughout the war. For a time he was interested in gold mining in Maryland, and in 1889 succeeded his brother Frank (then deceased) as collector of customs of the District of Columbia.

On the twelfth of June, 1849, a remarkable event took place in this old house--a wedding ceremony at four o'clock in the morning of four of the children of Mr. and Mrs. Dodge. Adeline was married to Charles Lanman; Virginia to Ben Perley Poore, a well-known correspondent of _Harper's Weekly_ in those days; Allen Dodge to Miss Mary Ellen Berry, and Charles Dodge to Miss Eliza G. Davidson of Evermay. The weddings were celebrated at this unusual hour so that the bridal couples could take the regular stage leaving Georgetown for Baltimore at five o'clock. At least it was a cool time of day for the celebration, and how beautiful it must have been with the dew lying on the box and the roses, and the birds twittering their sunrise notes. What a jolly time these four couples must have had, starting off together. Let us hope their spirits were not too much dampened by the fact that their father would not witness the ceremony, as it was at variance with his religious scruples that it was not conducted in a church. Reverend N. P. Tillinghast, then the rector of St. John's Church, must have officiated, as the Dodges were always ardent supporters of St. John's.

The only two members of the family who did not marry were Miss Emily and Miss Elizabeth Dodge. They were the eldest of the girls, and I imagine that practically no one could get up the nerve to ask the old gentleman for their hands. Major Ben Perley Poore used to say that the most momentous hour he could remember was the one spent in Mr. Dodge's office waiting to see him to ask for the hand of Virginia, and he had faced guns when he said that.

In 1851 Francis Dodge died at the age of sixty-nine. He was a very good citizen; his judgment was sought on all matters of public interest connected with the town, besides exercising a controlling influence over commercial transactions. At that time tropical fruits such as oranges and bananas were luxuries, and it is remembered that Mr. Dodge used to send baskets of them around to his friends whenever one of his vessels would arrive from the West Indies.

When I was a little girl, living across the street on the opposite corner from this house, it was always spoken of as "Miss Emily Dodge's." I can remember her well when she would come out on the gallery and walk up and down. She seemed never to go away from the house. She was rather small, had snow-white hair in long curls about her face, and was usually wrapped in a white shawl. I have been told that she was terribly afraid of fire and burglars, so slept fully dressed. Each morning she bathed and re-clothed herself. At night she lay down and slept as she was. At the time I remember, Miss Emily occupied part of the big wing of the enormous house and Allen Dodge and his wife were living in the lower floors of the wing. His wife was quite an invalid, and I do not recollect ever seeing her.

The main part of the house was occupied for one winter by Dr. Stuart, the rector of Christ Church, and his family while the new rectory at number 1515 31st Street was being built.

After the death of Miss Emily Dodge, the place was sold to close the estate, and pulled down, thereby deleting from Georgetown one of its most distinctive and charming features which today would have been invaluable. I remember weeping bitterly when I heard it was to be torn down; even then, a half-grown girl, I loved old houses.

The two cottages on West (P) Street at numbers 3033 and 3035, were built by Mr. Dodge. In the latter, until her death, lived Mrs. Charles Lanman (Adeline Dodge). Mr. Lanman was a native of Newburyport, Massachusetts. He was a very scholarly man, wrote _A Life of Daniel Webster_, who was his friend, and other books, and for a long time was connected with the Japanese Legation.

For many years they had a young Japanese girl, Ume Tschuda, making her home with them while she was being educated in this country. The Lanmans had no children of their own, and looked upon her almost as an adopted daughter. She has had a very remarkable career as head of an important school in Japan.

Another house built by the Dodges on their farm is the one on 30th Street, now doubled in size and occupied by Dr. Gwynn. Here Henry H. Dodge lived until he moved into his mother's former home, the Chapman house, on Congress (31st) Street and Dumbarton Avenue.

On the southeast corner of Stoddert (Q) and Washington (30th) Streets, what is now Hammond Court, an apartment, was the house built by Francis Dodge, junior. In the group picture shown, he and Alexander Hamilton Dodge are the two seated in the middle of the front row. A. H. Dodge is the only brother not adorned with a beard. Was there ever a more wonderful display of six stalwart handsome brothers? In fact, good looks are to this day inherent in the Dodge family.

I have already told a good deal of the history of Francis Dodge, junior, of his marriage to the two daughters of Judge Chapman. He had a son and a daughter by each wife.

In 1851, at the death of Francis Dodge, senior, his splendidly established West Indies business continued under the management of the eldest sons, the name being changed to F. & A. H. Dodge. On the basis of their business alone, Georgetown was made a port of entry and a custom house was established here.

Each year there was a sale for buyers from large cities in the North on the Dodges' wharf. It was quite an occasion. The counting house was capacious, and decorated with all sorts of curios from the tropics: sharks' jaws, flying fish, swordfish and sawfish; elaborate lunches were served to the patrons, with cigars and drinkables; chairs and benches were placed out on the platform overlooking the river. On summer afternoons, this was a great meeting place for the friends of the two Dodges.

Many bidders assembled on these advertised dates, hauling commodities away as purchased, some to the rail depot, some to storage, which kept the firm officials and stewards busy. One of the faithful employees was Richard McCraith, a newly arrived Irishman from Cork. He had that noted propensity of his race for getting orders twisted, but his endeavors to do right were so earnest and conscientious that his unintentional errors of judgment were condoned. One urgent order from a patron asked for delivery to bearer of two sacks of coarse salt. For its hauling the bearer had a cart. "Here, Richard, go with this man to the warehouse on High Street and see that his cart is backed up close to the door. The salt is stored in the third floor. Load it carefully on the hand truck, wheel it to the window and let it down 'by the fall'--do you get that straight?" "Yis sir, yis sir!" Presently a man burst into the office, exclaiming excitedly, "That wild Irishman of yours has raised hell up the street. He dumped a sack of salt weighing 200 pounds from the third story to the cart underneath, broke both wheels, and the horse has run away with the wreck." (Enter Richard!) Said the angry boss, "Now, what the devil have you done?" Richard: "Yis sir. Didn't you tell me to let it down 'by the fall'? I did, sir."

In 1867 Francis Dodge, junior, sold this fine house to Henry D. Cooke. In 1877 he was appointed collector of customs. He was quite an old gentleman by that time, and the glories of Georgetown's maritime trade were beginning to be a thing of the past. In fact, with the coming of the railroads, the huge business of the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal was injured, and from then on the commercial importance of the town began to dwindle.

Henry D. Cooke, who purchased this house, was the brother of Jay Cooke, and came to Washington to manage a branch of his brother's large banking enterprise. He was an intimate friend of General Grant, and I have read that the general was so fond of his company that he would sit in his carriage for an hour outside Mr. Cooke's place of business, waiting for him to go driving.

Claude Bowers, in his most interesting book _The Tragic Era_, speaks of a brilliant ball given the night before the "breaking of the bubble of the Credit Mobilier" in 1873, by Henry D. Cooke. It was in this house that the ball took place. Can't you picture the coaches as they rolled up to the door, discharging the ladies in their crinolines, laces, satins, and flowers, attended by the gentlemen wrapped in the long cloaks of that period? Kate Chase Sprague was in the height of her beauty and power at that time and was, of course, among the guests on that fateful night.

Mr. Cooke was the first governor of the District of Columbia when that new form of municipal government was begun, to last through only three terms. There were twelve children in the Cooke family then living in this house. They were ardent members of St. John's Church--the font there being in memory of one little son. Mr. Cooke built Grace Church, the little gray stone church down below the canal near High Street (Wisconsin Avenue). It was intended for the canal people of whom there were many at that time.

Governor Cooke bought a great deal of property and built four sets of twin houses along the north side of Stoddert (Q) Street, which were called, until a few years ago, Cooke Row. In Number One, near Washington (30th) Street, lived one family of his descendants, one of whom, a young man, played the piano very well. In Number Three, lived Mrs. Shepherd from Philadelphia, a widow, who had one son. He was the first person I ever knew to commit suicide. It was a terrible shock to the town when we heard one morning that he had shot himself the night before. It was not such a common event in the nineties as nowadays.

In one of these houses lived Commodore Nicholson, and in another lived Admiral Radford, whose lovely daughter, Sophy, became the bride of Valdemar de Meisner, secretary of the Russian Legation. In Number Four, lived Mrs. Zola Green with her daughter and her two sisters, named Pyle--one of them was called Miss "Chit-Chat." Mr. Green, who was a descendant of Uriah Forrest, had been given the name of Oceola after the Indian Chief who had saved the life of his father years ago out West.

At Number Five Cooke Row, now 3021 Q Street, lived during the nineties, Dr. Walter Reed, of the United States Army, whose name is honored by being given to the huge General Hospital in Washington because of his association with the discovery of the cause of yellow fever. I recall a most delightful party at the Reeds on St. Valentine night in 1899, given for friends of their son. When the invitations were sent out, we were told the name of the young man or girl to whom our valentine was to be written. It was at the time of the tremendous blizzard of that year, and we walked to the party between drifts of snow piled higher than our heads. But it was anything but cold when we got inside--open fires and jollity! Dr. Reed read aloud the poems, one by one, and we had to guess the authors and to whom they were addressed. In the library, ensconced in mysterious gloom, seated in a corner on the floor was a fortune-teller. It was a perfect party!

Next door, at Number Six Cooke Row, for a great many years, lived William A. Gordon, junior, and his family. Mr. Gordon wrote some very valuable brochures of historical interest about Georgetown and his memories of it from his childhood. This house is now the home of Mrs. Henry Latrobe Roosevelt. During World War II, this was the home of Sir John and Lady Dill, when he was here representing Great Britain on the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

At Number Seven lived the Misses Trapier--four old maids again!

J. Holdsworth Gordon, brother of William A. Gordon, built a house across the street. For him the Gordon Junior High School has been named, he having been for a long time on the board of education.

Next door to him on the east, at number 3020, is an attractive old house, and in the nineties it was filled with a family of four charming daughters. They were related to the Carters of Virginia, and so had given two of the most imposing names of that great family to two small fox-terriers that they adored, "King Carter," and "Shirley Carter." The latter had met with an accident and had to have one of his hind legs amputated, but he got about very nimbly on his other three. They always accompanied Colonel B. Lewis Blackford, the head of the house, on his trips about town. One day as he was nearing home, an old lady who walked with a cane was just about to pass him when "Shirley Carter" hopped immediately across his path; "Get out of my way, you damn tripod!" he said, in his exasperation, just escaping being tripped up. The old lady, thinking the "tripod" referred to her adjunct of a cane, was quite infuriated, even to summoning across the street a gentleman who was passing, and to wishing him to "call the Colonel out!"

A little further eastward along Stoddert (Q) Street, on the northeast corner is the house Mr. Joseph Nourse built in 1868, and where his daughter, Miss Emily Nourse, lived all her life. After her death, it was sold and somebody put two old lamp-posts at the foot of the entrance steps with gas flickering in them continuously--and now there is a story around that they were "always" there, and some foolishness about the lights "never had gone out" or "must never go out."

Across the street, where the Stoddert Apartment now is, used to be an old house, in appearance quite like the one of Judge Chapman's on Dumbarton Avenue and Congress (31st) Street, except for the long, side porches. Here lived in the seventies and eighties General Henry Hayes Lockwood and his family. His son, James Lockwood, accompanied General Greeley on his trip to the North Pole, and was lost there in the Arctic, holding the record at that time of having reached farthest North.

A block south, on the northeast corner of Greene (29th) and West (P) Streets, is where Alexander Hamilton Dodge lived, who was a partner with his brother, Francis, in the shipping business. He was the father of Colonel Harrison H. Dodge.

In the days when his children were young, he had a big Newfoundland dog which he had raised from a puppy. One rarely sees one now, as tall and as big as a half-grown calf, with a coat of wonderful black, curly hair. Such pets used to be quite popular, but only once in forty years have I run across another. The Dodge's dog was named Argus. So strong and docile was he that two children could ride him at the same time. He loved the children, took them to school, and gave them "lifts" over wet or muddy ground. Do you remember "Nana," in _Peter Pan_? She was a Newfoundland dog--just so she nursed her master's children. Returning from escort duty in the morning, a locked container was fastened to his collar and he would be given the word "office," which was enough. Off he'd go, proudly bearing luncheon to his master, who, in return, would send back to the family the daily mail (no postmen to deliver in those days), perfectly confident of its reaching its destination safely, as everybody knew the big dog, and also that he would resent any attempt to stop him or take things from him.

One day the cook complained to Mr. Dodge that somebody had evidently been robbing the hen's nests, as she was getting fewer eggs than usual. Mr. Dodge, going to investigate, met Argus coming down the path from the barn wagging his tail majestically, as was his wont when approaching his master. Mr. Dodge stopped and held out his hand, saying, "Argus, give me that egg," whereupon the obedient dog opened his mouth and out rolled an egg, to the great surprise of Mr. Dodge. Did he punish Argus for that? Not at all, but he told him he was sorry he was a robber and hoped he'd never have cause to scold him again. And he never did!

The interesting-looking house to the east of Hamilton Dodge's, 2811 P Street, was built in 1840. That is where the Gordon family were living when William A. Gordon, junior, came back from the Civil War. Certainly, that must have been a joyous occasion, and there were happy hearts within the old walls that night. His sister Josephine (Mrs. Sowers), Margaret Robinson (Mrs. Thomas Cox), and Elizabeth Dodge (Mrs. John Beall), all exceedingly handsome women, were belles in their youth, and a trio of great friends to the end of their lives.

The family of Admiral Sigsbee were living here when the U. S. battleship _Maine_, of which he was the captain, was blown up in the harbor of Havana in 1898. His wife was a daughter of Admiral Lockwood. It is now the home of Mr. and Mrs. John Ihlder.

At 2805 P Street lives Honorable Dean G. Acheson, now Secretary of State. For a while, in the latter part of the last century, a quaint and very well-known lady made this house her home--Miss Emily V. Mason, of Virginia, from whom Mr. Corcoran received friendly and grateful letters, thanking him for contributions to her work for "her children," as she called them. The letters were written from Europe. She evidently had groups of Southern children in various cities for whom she provided, using for that purpose money made by her writings, to which she refers. I remember how picturesque she was in appearance: a lovely face, surrounded by long, white curls, crowned by a wide-brimmed, black bonnet tied with a wide ribbon. She seemed to have quite a salon during her residence here, serving tea and substantial refreshments to all her friends who called in the afternoons.

The iron fence around these houses is made of old musket barrels, used during the Mexican War, and was put there by Reuben Daw, who owned a large part of this block.

Just across the street from Mr. Acheson used to live a lady, the widow of Mr. Hein, the artist, who like "Anna" in the Bible spent all her days in the "courts of the Lord," the Catholic Church. She always wore a long black coat and a crepe veil to her heels, rode a bicycle back and forth to church, the long veil floating out behind. One evening she was struck by an automobile and killed instantly. The niece to whom she had left her little house had made an arrangement with a middle-aged woman living there that if she took care of "Aunt Martha" she could have the house tax free all her days. Her days are still continuing--and with all the advance in prices of houses, the niece can't do a thing about the house!

The dear little white frame cottage just above here on Montgomery (28th) Street, was built about 1840, and occupied by Benjamin F. Miller, who came from Saugerties, New York, as an engineer, to construct the Aqueduct Bridge which carried the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal across the river to Virginia. And, on the corner of Montgomery (28th) and Stoddert (Q) Streets is the last of the big Dodge houses on the corners of Georgetown. It is the one built by Robert Perley Dodge in 1850. He and his brother, Francis Dodge, junior, used practically the same plans for their houses. Robert Dodge was a civil engineer, and, I think, had something to do with the planning of the Aqueduct Bridge.

At the outbreak of the Civil War, Robert Dodge became a paymaster in the Union Army. After the war, he became identified with the government of the District of Columbia, serving as treasurer and auditor for several years until he died. It is said he planted the enormous maple trees that adorn this block of 28th Street.

During the first World War, when this house had stood a long time untenanted and sad, it was opened up as a night club called "The Carcassonne," and postals were sent out advertising "Coffee in the Coal Bin." These were the days of prohibition. Somebody who lived there played the piano, incessantly. The Ballengers had lived here; the Powells, and Major Gilliss; and then Mrs. Ruth Hanna McCormick (now Mrs. Albert Simms), lived here until she bought three houses down on 30th Street below N Street, and made them into one very attractive house with an unusual and lovely garden.

Later Honorable Warren Delano Robbins, a first cousin of Franklin D. Roosevelt and one of the ushers at his wedding, and at one time Minister to Canada, bought this house, changed it somewhat and made it very lovely in its new dress of yellow paint on the old plaster.

When he went to Ottawa he leased it to Honorable Dwight F. Davis, former Secretary of War, once Governor-General of the Philippine Islands, and also donor of the Davis Tennis Cup.

It has now for several years been the home of Mrs. William Corcoran Eustis. She is the daughter of one-time Vice-President Paul Morton.

Just across the street from here is the house that Honorable and Mrs. Robert Woods Bliss bought when they gave their fine estate, "Dumbarton Oaks," to Harvard University. This house was built by Mr. Thomas Hyde and was where he and Mrs. Hyde lived till the end of their days. She was Fannie Rittenhouse and had grown up in the old house close by, known for a hundred years as "Bellevue," but renamed "Dumbarton House," when the National Society of Colonial Dames of America bought it for their Headquarters in 1928. It is one of the finest, most beautiful, and most interesting of the old places of Georgetown. It has always been somewhat shrouded in mystery, as to its builder and owner. We do know, of course, that this was part of the grant of the Rock of Dumbarton to Ninian Beall and, through his son, George, descended to Thomas, who, in 1783 made his first Addition to George Town. Thomas may have built a small house here, but this was not the house where his father, George, was living when his wife died and was "buried nearby"--that was on Gay (N) Street at the house now 3033 N Street.

In 1796 Thomas Beall of George sold this property to Peter Casanave, who, two months later, sold it to Uriah Forrest. He kept it for a year--never lived there--and sold it to Isaac Pollock. There was wild speculation in real estate at that time on account of the new Federal City being located here. After one year Pollock sold the property to Samuel Jackson.

It seems that it was then that Samuel Jackson started to build this mansion, but got into financial difficulties and it was mortgaged to two or three people and finally foreclosed. In 1804 the place was bought by Gabriel Duval, then Comptroller of the Currency of the United States, afterwards a Justice of the Supreme Court.

In 1805 Joseph Nourse, Registrar of the United States Treasury, who had been until that time living on Congress (31st) Street in George Town, bought it and lived there until 1813. He had this position from 1789 to 1829 and was in charge of moving all the records of the Treasury Department when the Government moved from Philadelphia to the new capital in Washington.

Mr. Nourse had been born in London in 1754; came to Virginia and fought in the Revolution. He was secretary to General Charles Lee and Auditor of the Board of War. His wife was Maria Louisa Bull of Philadelphia, and they had two children, Charles Joseph Nourse, who became a Major in the Army, and Anna Maria Josepha, who was a lovely girl and took part in the prominent social affairs of the new city. She is spoken of in the diary of Sir Augustus Foster, British Minister of that period.

When the National Society of Colonial Dames had this house restored, a penny bearing the date 1800 was found in one of the front walls where such an identification was often placed, and architects think that Samuel Jackson began to build this house, using perhaps the little house that was on the property as a wing, and that then Joseph Nourse took it over and was really the builder of this fine mansion. It was probably intended for entertaining for his beloved daughter, for, after her death, which occurred at one of the Virginia springs one summer, he sold the place and moved out to a small frame house on a high hill overlooking the Federal City. He called his new home "Mount Alban," because it reminded him of the place of the same name in England. It was there that the first British martyr, Saint Alban, was killed. Mr. Nourse was a very religious man and used to walk about in the grove of oak trees surrounding his house and pray that some day a House of God might stand upon that spot; that is exactly where the Washington Cathedral is now being erected.

Mr. Nourse had many famous guests visit him in his modest home there--among them: Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, James Monroe, and John Quincy Adams.

Mr. Nourse's son, Major Charles Joseph Nourse, married Rebecca Morris whose father, Anthony Morris, of Philadelphia, was an intimate and life-long friend of Dolly Madison. Major Nourse built the old stone house out on the road to Rockville and called it "The Highlands." Tradition says that a large box bush at "The Highlands" has grown from a tiny sprig of box which Mrs. Madison plucked from her bouquet at the inauguration of her husband and gave to Mr. Morris.

"The Highlands" was a large household, for Major and Mrs. Nourse had eleven children, and Mr. Morris resided there also. They have been a very remarkable family, noted for their longevity, their steadfast, noble character, and their loyalty to the Episcopal Church. It was from the prayers and savings of Phoebe Nourse, who died as a young girl, that St. Alban's Church has risen on that ground which she wished to dedicate to the glory of God.

"The Highlands" many years later became the home of Admiral and Mrs. Gary T. Grayson.

But to return to the old house which blocked Stoddert (Q) Street or Back Street, as it was sometimes called. Mr. Nourse sold this house, his Georgetown home, in 1813 to Charles Carroll, who gave it the name of Bellevue, and thereafter always styled himself "of Bellevue." He was a nephew of Daniel Carroll, of Duddington. He also was a great friend of Mrs. Madison's, and helped her in her dramatic escape from the White House when the British were on their way to burn and plunder it. There has always been a story that Daniel Carroll brought her over the road to Georgetown, crossing at the P Street bridge, and that she stopped by Bellevue. There she is supposed to have met Mr. Madison whom she had not seen since early morning. This was the day of the Battle of Bladensburg when confusion reigned supreme. At the meeting Mr. and Mrs. Madison agreed on the routes and rendezvous of retreat.

From old letters it seems that she continued on out of town to "Weston," the estate of Walter S. Chandler, which was situated near the present junction of Massachusetts and Wisconsin Avenues. I can dimly remember the quaint white, frame house and the legend of Dolly Madison being there. She then went on to the encampment at Tenally Town, where she slept in a tent that night under guard, and the next day crossed into Virginia.

Mr. Carroll and his brother had not long before become owners of the paper mill on Rock Creek just south of Bellevue, so that must have been his reason for making it his home.

In 1820 he leased the place to Samuel Whitall, of Philadelphia, whose wife was Lydia Newbold. Mr. Whitall was a distinguished-looking old gentleman, and used to drive around in a high, two-wheeled gig, the last of its kind in the town.

When Charles Carroll died in 1841, the place was bought by the son of Mr. and Mrs. Whitall. A daughter, Sarah Whitall, was born at Bellevue in 1822 and lived there for over seventy years. She married Mr. Rittenhouse of Philadelphia. The place remained in the Rittenhouse family until 1896, when they sold it to Howard Hinckley. In the intervening years, its appearance had been greatly changed by a coat of plaster over the old bricks, which Mr. Hinckley removed. It was very lovely, both inside and out, during the years that Mr. and Mrs. Hinckley made it their home. Some very delightful parties were given there. Then candlelight was the only illumination, and even the flowers used were redolent of colonial days. The rooms were filled with furniture of the right type; and I remember that the bedrooms even had the old washstands with holes in the tops for bowls and pitchers which also were exactly "right" in their period.

After that, Colonel Langfitt leased the house, and a very lovely wedding took place out of doors under an enormous tree, when his daughter married an officer of the United States Army.

In 1912 it was bought by John L. Newbold, a relative of the Lydia Newbold of long ago. After a great deal of agitation on the subject of cutting Q Street through, and putting a bridge across Rock Creek to connect with the city, the District government in 1915 moved the old house to its present location, for it had been sitting exactly in the path of progress all these years, there being a George Town Ordinance that a street could not be cut through without consent of the owner. I only wish progress could have made a circle around the old mansion and left it in its setting of stately, primeval trees.

Miss Loulie Rittenhouse, who had been born and reared there, worked untiringly for the opening of the street, the bridge, and also for Montrose Park, with the salvation of the glorious old oak trees it contains.

Slowly, very, very slowly, old Bellevue was placed on huge rollers, horses were attached to a windlass, and it almost took a microscope to see the progress made day by day, but at last it reached its present site, safe and sound. It was necessary to pull down and rebuild the wings, as they had no cellars. Of course, the wall is also new.

It was leased during World War I to various people of importance in Washington for war work, and finally, in 1928, bought by the National Society of Colonial Dames of America. It has been handsomely and suitably furnished as a house of the Federal period, and is open to the public as a museum house. A beautiful house it is; the usual wide hall through the middle, with vistas through the two big doors, four rooms opening off it, the two back ones being rounded out at the northern ends.