The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1878-06-27

FROM 1lafpef'S B1Zar.
1t was shabby old mansion in a
shabby old thoroughfare, which had
been a fashionable street in its day but
was anything else now. Grocery shops
and junk shops had invaded it. The
square, white painted, green-blinded
dwellings, with rallied roofs and pIas.
tered front doors, through which de-
corous worthless in ruffies and bob.
wigs had once gone in and out, shorn
Of their prestige now, and divested of
shining knobs and knockers, were
turned into tenement. houses of the
poorer sort. Only the magnificent
double row of elms, which had been
the glory of the street in its prime, re-
mained intact to deck it's decadence.
The tow wering splendor of their green
masses rustled i'm the salt air nc W as
then, but mourniulness mingled with
the rustic. Perhaps-who knows p
the elms were sorry for the deserted
street. 1t is not easy always to faith.
ON what lies at the heart of things,
trees or men.
The shabby old mansion had be-
longed to General Wesson, a revolu-
tionary hero, less conspicuous in his.
tory than in the affections of his towns
folk, who to do him honor had called
the street by his name-Wesson street.
thn m
neighborhood, had still this advantage
over it's dilapidated compeers, that it
retained it's old-time garden, large
square inclosure laid out in formal
box edged beds and walks. This gar
den had the odd appearance of having
sunk slightly during some conyulsion
of nature, for its surface lay come five
feet below the level of the street,
which had been filled in.' 1t vas
walled on three sides. Peeping over
the low fence which topped the wall,
a passer-by could look down into the
heart of gooseberry bushes and peony
clumps. The wall itself was tangle
of honeysuckle, ivy, and brier roses,
and altogether the garden had sweet
ness still, though its paths had run to
weeds, and lines of wet linen tapped
over the rose circle which had been
the pride of Madame Wessons heart
almost hundred years ago.
So long past, so forgotten, were the
traditional dignities of the old house,
so poor and decayed was its present
seeming, that people experienced a
shock of surprise-almost indignation
when told that the Moravian socie-
ty had bought the property for chap.
ell and parsonage. What! that old
thingY' they cried. But the thrifty
Moravians went their way without
minding much what people said. They
had little money to expend. and a
righteous horror of debt. The old
place was cheap; they could make it
do, they thought. So little army of
work people deployed upon the prem
ises, and presently all was changed.
The ground floor, divested of parti
tions, became large plain meeting
room. The second floor was reserv-
ed for the PASTORS dwelling. There
was much scrubbing and whitcwash.
ing, new paint and plaster; blinds
were rehung, a tottering chimney re-
bricked, the fences mended. Last ol
all arrived a cart-load of benches, an.
other of furniture, and Pastor Lubke
and his family. The neighbors, watch
ing, saw them go in; first the grave
old pastor leading little boy, then g
long file of girls of graduated heights
all clad In black, worn, it was whisp
cred, in memory of their mother, whe
had died a few months before. Tht
beds, chairs and tables seemed scant,
plenishing for so many, and. lockers
on wondered how they managed: bu
nobody found out for the Lubke'
were quiet and reserved, saying littl'
or nothing of their affairs, but simpl.
taking things as they were, and set
tling into the new home without dis
cussiDg or words.
All these things to watch did seri
ously incline Mr.. Erasmus Stockton
young man who, for his misfortune
, had little to do except to look out Q