Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1878-05-17
OVER THE FENCE.

1t was q shabby old mansion in
shabby old thoroughfare, which haC
been fashionable street in its day, bu
was anything else now. Grocery shops
and Junk shops had invaded it. Tht
square, white-painted, green-blindeC
dwellings,, with rallied roofs and pilaster
ed front doors, through which decorous
worthless in ruffles and bob-wigs haG
once gone in and out, shorn of theil
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, remained intact tc
deck its decadence. Thet owering splen.
dor of their green masses rustled in the
salt air now as then, but a mournfulness
mingled with the rustic Perhaps-whc
knows p-the elms were sorry for the
deserted old street. 1t is not easy
always to fathom what lies at the heart
OF things, trees or men.
The shabby old mansion had belonged
to General Wesson, Revolutionary
hero, less conspicuous in history than
in the affections of his townsfolk, who
to do him honor had called the street by
his name-Wesson street. His residence,
once the finest in the neighborhood, had
still this advantage over its dilapidated
compeers, that it retained its old-time
garden, a large square inclosure laid out
in formal box-edged beds and walks.
This garden had the odd appearance OF
having sunk slightly during some
convulsion of nature, for its surface lay
some five feet below the level of the
street, which had been "filled in." 1t
was walled on three sides. Peeping over
the low fence which topped the wall, a
passer.by could look down into the very
heart of gooseberry bushes and peony
clumps. The wall itself was tangle of
honeysuckle, ivy, and brier roses, and
altogether the garden had a sweetness
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 Wesson's heart almost a hun
dred years ago.
So long past, SO forgotten, were the
traditional dignities of the old house, SO
poor and decayed was its present SEEM
ing, that people experienced shock of
surprise-almostin indignation--when told
that the Moravian Society had bought
the property for a chapel and parson-
age. "What that old thing ?" they cried.
But the thrifty Moravians went their
way without minding much what peo-
pie said. They had little money to ex-
pend, 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
premises, and presently all was changed
The ground-foor, Invested of partitions,
became a large plain meeting-room.
The second floor was reserved for the
pastors dwelling. There was much
scrubbing and whitewashing, new paint
and plaster; blinds were rehung, a tot
tering chimney rebricked, the fences
mended. Last of all arrived cart-load
of benches, another of furniture, and
Pastor Lubke and his family. The
neighbors, watching, saw them go in:
first the grave old pastor leading little
boy, then long file of girls of graduated
heights, all clad in black, worn, it was
whispered, in memory of their mother,
who had died few months before. The
beds, chairs and tables seemed scanty
plenishing for so many, and lockers on
wondered how they managed; but no.
body found out, for the Lubkes were
quiet and reserved, saying little or moth
ing of their affairs, but simply taking
things as they were, and settling into
the new home without discussion OF
words.
All these things to watch did serious
ly incline Mr.. Erasmus Stockton
young man who, for his misfortune, had
little to do then except look out of win.
dow. His lodging next door command
ed view of the long south side of the
"Wesson house." as the neighbors still
called it, and of the whole garden, and
having, as l said, little to do except look
out of window, while waiting the report
of the Patent-office on his improved
air brake" he naturally looked out q
great deal. Idleness is the root of curl.
osity as we'll as of mischief. 1t is aston.
ishing how persistently he watched the
Lubkes and their doings, and how much
entertainment he found in doing 80, all
the time persuading himself that he was
studying "Chitty on Special Pleas, y
which lively work he held in his hand,
to be sure, but over the top of which
his eyes were forever straying to note
the comings and going next door.
"Heavens what lot of girls |" was
his first reflection as he saw the sable.
clad procession file up the walk. "And
how much alike they are |" was his Sec
ond. They were strangely alike. The
four elder all seemed of the same age.
They were of the same slender build,
with clouds of faxen hair flying over
their shoulders, the same pale blue
eyes, the same colorless skins. For @
long time Erasmus could fix on no point
of difference by which to distinguish
them, but after while he learned to
classify the four as "Sister," "The
Twins" and "Hilda." The twins were
always together, inseparable as Castor
and Pollux. "Sister was the central
star of the little ones. They were for.
ever clinging to her skirts and follow.
ing to help or hinder in her many house.
bold tasks, from washing windows epd