Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1879-01-16

side of it, and silver figures of little naked
children and tiny birds sported in the wa
ter in the basin.
The broad staircase with low steps as
cending to landing and then turned out
of sight. In the corner underneath it, was
tall clock, with its moon-face and its
case carved to represent vines, roses and
honey-suckles. II was running, too. tell
ing the correct time; its deep, throat-like
tick echoing through the deserted
halls. and making them all the more lone
ly. A long parlor. or drawing room, its
high ceiling detracting somewhat from its
size, was to the right. The floor was
either painted or stained rich maroon,
and shone like polished mahogany. The
fittings. the furniture, the wood-carvings of
the mantel. the doors. windows and cor
nices all harmonized with a unity in de-
sign. Heavy and costly rugs were before
the great mirrors at both ends of the room
by the side of the low and deeply uphol-
stored sofas or lounges and in front of the
grand piano-forte, and larger rug was
spread through the centre of the apart
ment.
With all these evidences of luxury and
life. the richness and ornamention, the
glowing ceiling, the exquisite statuary, the
brilliant chandeliers, as | stood drinking
them in, there came a sensation more and
more vivid, that as l stood there where
only few minutes before funeral service
had been performed.
Icould not shake off the feeling. II grew
to so much of certainty that the coffin had
only been borne out, and the mourners and
attendants were away. seeing the cherished
body lowered into the grave, and might
return at any minute with their long, trail
ing wells and symbols of death and sor
row.
The feeling grew oppressive, so much so.
that caught myself listening forth sound
ofreturning wheels. The old man certainly
stole chances at me that were furtive and
became uncomfortable. | could see him
slowly shake his head. He touched my
arm. babe me follow, and added i'm an I'M
dertOne:
ALAS so it is with all who come
The whole house was marvel of con-
structve skill, and from cellar to attic was
furnished with careful attention to details.
Some rooms were exquisite in coloring and
material, and all things, even to the towels
on the racks, and the perfumed soap on the
washstands. were as though the occupants
had just gone out and were momentarily
expected to return. There were great,
roomy closets, and in every heavily cur
tanned window, deep recess. No con-
venience had been omitted; nothing had
been forgotten,
In square tower that rose from the
centre of the side. just back of the main
hall, was a library, whose shelves were
crowded with books that saw, from their
titles, had been selected with rare dis
elimination and taste. Above was look
out or eyrie. furnished with soft, cushioned
lounges and chairs and windows on all
sides, affording glorious view of a valley
for many miles. A large celestial tele-
scope completed the furnishing of this
palace of observatory.
We came down from two-hour's exam
ination of the house and sat for few min
utes on the porch, broad and long. 'front.'
supported the roof.
was full of admiration for the exquis-
lite structure, fitted outside and in for the
habitation of a prince. And when / ex-
pressed what felt. saw that my entbusi-
asm gratified the old man; but only for an
instant, for his face and attitude settled
back to his habitial expectant expression.
~ built this" he said, very quietly, and
with what thought was sigh. looked
at the wasted frame in its shabby garments,
with the worn and wrinkled face, and white
hair struggling underneath the old torn
straw hat; at the hands knotted and cord
ed, folded over one knee. He did not
turn toward me but repeated: II built
this. 1t ruined me. and it will kill me.
cannot get away from it,"
Notthe only example, thought, of one
who has gone beyond his means in build
ing his home. Most men build for others
to occupy. How far astray | was.
II can't get away from this" the old
man continued, as though communing with
himself, adding something in an under
tone that could not hear. Then turning
suddenly toward me, he asked, abruptly:
Don't you think that houses have a
life, an existence, soul of their own like
mankind, outside of the mere brick and
stone and mortara Don't think the ques-
ton crazy one. l am not out of my
head. can say the multiplication table
without skip; and look into my eyes
is there anything wrong there ?'
l looked and except for the dimness of
old age, they were intelligent and clear
$50 into any house-an empty one, if
you please-and do you not always get an
impression, distinct and appreciable, of
some kind from it, as though it were talk
ing to you, the same that you do of a man
Didn't this house say something to you?
All know it did. Doesn't every house
say something to you2 You need to be
neither fanciful nor imaginative to prove
it to yourself. See the squat low farmers
houses on the hillsides or on the rivers
banks. Do they not speak to you as you
pass or enter them, and tell their own
stories as intelligibly as their thick-skulled
occupants do? Do not the mansions of
the rich seem to pride themselves on their
situations and surroundings
Why, once saw what was meant for a
beautiful place in the country, but it
seemed to be hiding itself behind the TO-
liage that surrounded it, as woman will
cover her face with her hands, in shame
/ inquired about it. 1t was built by an
honorable man. but had become the prop
erty of scoundrel. They say that walls
have ears. and that they absorb the words
uttered beneath them, to be delivered up
some day. Have they not, as well, eyes,
other senses and arms that reach a lonU