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A Portrait of Old George Town by Peter

[Illustration: MAP _of_ GEORGE TOWN]

_A PORTRAIT_

_OF_

_OLD GEORGE TOWN_

[Illustration: EARLY GEORGE TOWN]

A Portrait of Old George Town

BY

GRACE DUNLOP ECKER

[Illustration]

_1951_

THE DIETZ PRESS, INCORPORATED

_Richmond, Virginia_

COPYRIGHT, 1951 BY GRACE G. D. PETER

SECOND EDITION Revised and Enlarged

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER AND MOTHER GEORGE THOMAS AND EMILY REDIN DUNLOP AND MY AUNT, ELLEN DUNLOP ALL THREE OF WHOM LIVED LONG, USEFUL AND UNSELFISH LIVES IN GEORGETOWN

GEORGE TOWN GHOSTS

_By_ WILLIAM TIPTON TABLOTT

_The ghosts of Georgetown when they meet In haunted house or moonlit street With pride recall the functions gay When down the Philadelphia way The Federal City overnight Moved to its bare and swampy site, For Georgetown then a busy mart, A growing seaport from the start, Where a whole-hearted spirit reigned, Threw wide its doors, and entertained With wines and viands of the best-- The Federal City was its guest._

_In memory of the good old days, Whose ways to them were modern ways, Congenial ghosts across Rock Creek, With formal bows and steps antique, Rehearse a spectral minuet Where once in bright assemblies met-- Beruffled belles looked love to beaus In powdered wigs and faultless hose; Or merchant ghosts survey the skies And venture guesses weatherwise Regarding winds that will prevail To speed their ships about to sail._

_Still in the shaded hillside streets A trace of old-time welcome greets The passer-by who has a flare For scenes of old. No longer there A buoyant Georgetown stands alone, The Federal City having grown Until their boundaries overlap; So that, deleted from the map, Though once the Federal City's host, Georgetown itself is now a ghost._

_Foreword_

It is not at all in my mind to write a history of Georgetown. Several have been written, but I do want, very, very much, to paint a portrait of this dear old town of my birth where my parents, my grandparents, great-grandfathers and one great-great-grandfather lived, and which I love so dearly.

A portrait, partly of its physical features, its streets, its houses and gardens, some of which still exist in their pristine glory but, alas, many of which have gone the way of so-called progress. In place of the dignified houses of yore, of real architectural beauty, stand rows of cheap dwellings or stores, erected mostly in the seventies and eighties when architecture was at its worst. In 1895 it was that the old names of the streets were taken away and from then on we've been just an adjunct of Washington.


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