Dust and cobwebs are standard furnishings in old log cabins, but good luck finding any speck of grime at Fredericksburg's Austin Street Retreat. The five tightly grouped structures are all more than a century old, but our cabin, called simply Maria's, was immaculate - even the cracks in the ceiling had been vacuumed. There was also a high serenity level, though mere blocks away cars and crowds thronged the main drag of this former German farm town, now a shopper's paradise.

Maria's has two bedrooms (each with an antique bedstead, the high kind you have to vault onto), a tiny combination kitchen-den, and a stonewalled room for the hot tub. Subdued but suitably vintage decor includes an interesting window treatment - an ancient, oompahed-out concertina stretched across the sill. At dusk, my friend Ilse and I plunked ourselves down in the handmade pine rockers on the porch and indulged in that immortal pastime, watching the world go by (cats, dogs, a couple of trucks). Then in an abrupt return to the present, we headed inside, suited up, opened a bottle of Merlot, and immersed ourselves in the hot tub. (As we soaked and sipped, Ilse said with a sign: "This is great. I really needed a vacation." "Easy for you to say, " I groused. "I'm working!")