The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1894-06-22
CHAPTER XIV.
TIlTE Ann TIDE


More than once in the course Of this
History it has been mentioned that the
windows of the artists chambers looked
out upon u river. In truth, itwas almost
impossible to be anywhere in Maxey's
rooms and escape its presence. He had
chosen his suit for tho free, open pros
pcct it afforded, and he had sketched and
painted landscape from this lofty stu
alton dozen times. 1t mattered not in
what part of the house one was, there
was always something to remind him of
the river.
Tho sweeping curve mado by the
stream just above the center Of the city
broadcned tho otherwise narrow belt of
water into lakolike oxpanse and opened
q vista Of miles to the eye. Over this
wide surface the wind came and went
unopposed. u was ever rattling at the
windows Of the artists rooms. To awake
Of winters night and hear the uneasy
ghost tapping with his chill hand for
admission was to be reminded of the icy
water flowing steadily with the tide
down between the great stone walls in
tho darkness.
The tide rose and fell in the river for
miles above the city. In the dead of
winter it lifted the solid white surface,
like q marble floor, through 10 feet
twice day. After a thaw, when the
ice broke up, even in Maxey's rooms,
could be heard the great blocks grind
ing against the stones. These floating
masses drifted variously, as the tide ran
back up the stream, to crowd the mar
row space between the banks above the
sweeping curve or down beneath the
bridges and between the hulls Of innu-
merable vessels out to sea- Only in the
space contiguous to the house in Balla-
voine place they remained stationary,
for just here a confguration in the wall
gave whirling motion to the water.
The floating block that driftcd too near
this spot was inevitably drawn in, and
once in there it staid, pounded up and
down, up and down against the mason
ry and the decaying piles till it was
melted quite away
1t was dark and mysterious recess,
this little section of the river beneath
the artists windows. Somehow the
building stood about it in such way as
to cut off the sunlight, except perchance
at high noon. 1t was always gloomy
close to the wall Even when the river
sparkled brightest in the smiling sum-
rner days, just in here there was drea-
ry spot. Here the water swirled and did
not dance in little waves. Here, too,
had osce been tho end Of wharf or
wooden structure of some Rind. A few
Of the venerable timbers yet remained
imbedded firmly in the rivers bottom.
The blackened ends, projecting above
the surface, deepened the somber and
forlorn effect.
TIE house in which Maxey lived did
not rise directly from the river wall. 1t
stood back and left little space-a
mean and parsimonious space-utilizcd
only by housewives for the hanging out
of clothes. A high picl1eted fence pre-
vented the contiguity Of the river from
being dangerous.
Occasionally the janitor of the build
ing, who was supposed to have protect
ing eye for all that appertained to it,
emerged from the basement where he
lived into the yard to cast about him a
reassuring glance. One morning in De-
cember when he came, a tri1ing altera-
ton in the familiar prospect caught his
attention and aroused his wonder. The
upper ends of two piclets in the high
fonce were broken short off near the top.
One Of tho several pieces lay in the snow
at the bottom of the fence; the other
still hung by silver from its place. The
janitor shook the woodwork and his
mystification was increased when he
found that the two broken pickets were
loose. This was such an inexplicable