From the hills of Virginia, across the river, the first wireless message ever transmitted was sent into Washington; and from Washington to Philadelphia the first photographs by radio were sent.
When the Daughters of the American Revolution sought a permanent home no place could successfully compete with the charm of Washington; and here also the American Red Cross and the Pan American Union set up their respective domiciles.
In Kendall Green Park, in the northeast section of the city, the Columbia Institute for the Deaf was set up, the only Institution of its kind in the world, the gift of Gallaudet to the afflicted.
It was in Washington that another philanthropist, William W. Corcoran, built the Louise Home for Southern gentlewomen, as well as the Corcoran Art Gallery, the latter a gift to the city. He was laid away in Oak Hill Cemetery, the resting place of an unequaled gathering of distinguished Americans.
In the north of the city is the Walter Reed Hospital, named in honor of Dr. Walter Reed, who heroically risked his life to prove that yellow fever germs were communicated by mosquitos.
The Carnegie Institute “for the encouragement of investigation, research and discovery,” and the Carnegie Geophysical Laboratory are both located here.
In Washington the Geographic Society was established, and the unique Geographic Magazine is published; and here the beautiful home for the National Academy of Science has just been dedicated.
So the atmosphere of Washington works its witchery on resident as well as those who stop here but briefly, a mental stimulus of no uncertain potency; and as for scenic beauty, it is unequaled and getting more beautiful and more attractive all the time.
As I fly above the city its streets are hidden under a criss-cross of green trees, with the superb white dome of the Capitol standing out above the verdure in majestic splendor; and over to the west the Lincoln Memorial, looking for all the world like a jewel box of alabaster. And on the rim of the mist beyond stands a bowl-like marble amphitheatre keeping watch over the grave of the Unknown Soldier, while still farther around to the north looms the great National Cathedral on Mount St. Albans, where lies “the man of peace.”
And it was this inspiring sight that greeted the homeward bound, round-the-world flyers as they glided over the city to a landing in Boiling Field.