Ballou's Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXVII, No. 1 — page 40: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

44 I did not know, at the time, that it owned this soubriquet; afterward I learned that it was the ancestral home of a family more re- markable for influence and wealth than for coodness, a family now quite extinct. It was a massive three story house, with the end walls of brick; two narrow, tall wings, exceeding the main structure in height, flanked it; the windows were many-paned and old-fashioned; it stood close upon the road, the grass-grown yard, as trim, and green, and velvety as a .~2ntleman’s lawn, unclosed. ‘There was a low, insignificant porch over the front door, curiously disproportioned to the height of the building. A girl sat in a chair in front of the porch busy with some needle- work. All around there were homes which must have been the centres of warm, happy life, but the street was utterly still; as if the peo- ple were all locked in a Rip Van Winkle sleep. From far-off mowing fields came the clink of the whetted scythe, now and then an au- dacious bird dropped a song into the silence; but nothing else stirred. Years after, when I was soul-sick of noise and worry, I did not forget that picture of idyllic quiet. And when one day I happened upoh a newspaper with an advertisement setting forth that house called the Towers, with all its appurtenances was to let, I seized upon the thought at once. We were a large, rollicking, fun-loving fam- ily, aud we had countless relations. I remem- bered the long stretch of front wall, and was sure of bedrooms adequate to our bestowment. If I could secure it, one summer was happily provided for. I wrote to the agent, leased the house, and the first of June we all migrated country- ward. In an ineredibly short space of time we had scattered ourselves all over the house, explored to the attic, taken an inventory of closets—it being a theory of mine that houses are built chiefly to contain those convenient apartments—and made a raid on the orchards and garden. But there being, as Charlie said, no fruit ripe except a few green currants, we ‘dil not prosecute our investigations any further in that direction. teturning to the house, we renewed our adventures within it. There was a low wing, joining the main body of the house, where ihe humbler parts of the work could be per- formed. It was divided into apartments, tle largest aud most remote of which had once Our Co-Tenant at the Towers. been used as akitchen. This was in a pretty dilapidated condition. The plastering was cracked, and in some places falling from the walls. The huge beams that crossed the ceiling were black with ancient smoke, and tapestried with cobwebs. ‘There was a wide, open fire-place with ponderous crane and foot-hooks. “And what’s this?” cried Charlie, laying hold of a rusty iron door. It yielded to his urgent hand and disclosed a yawning entrance to a dark cavern. “Why, it’s the oven, Charlie.” “Sure enough! Hold your candle here, sis.” { did so. “Why, the place is large enough to roast an ox whole,” Charlie said. It was, indeed, aud at the further part lay a pile of rubbish, of what sort we could only faintly discern. “Who knows but there are treasures hid there ?” said Charlie, with enthusiasm. “ I've a creat mind to creep into the den and see.” “No indeed, Charlie! With your best clothes on, too,” I remonstrated. “ Whew!” Charlie looked down at his new gray suit in dismay, then cast a longing, lingering glance at the mouth of the oven. “"Phere are only ashes there I dare say, Charlie, aud you may not get another new suit of clothes when you want them.” “No! It’s just possible I mayn't,” and Charlie turned heroically away. “Stay!’ he said. “We must put up the door first. Help me, Lu.” I stooped with him and lifted one side of the heavy door. | “Why, you needn’t try so hard, Lu,” said Charlie, looking at me in surprise. “1? I was thinking that 1 wasn’t lifting a bit,” I returned, also surprised. Charlie stared at me. “ Didn't you breathe hard and fast, and lift almost the whole weight? I thought you were trying to show your muscle.” “ Nonsense!” I answered, with indignation. “Tt was you who breathed like a locomotive, | and tugged and strained with every sinew.” “Upon my word it wasn’t, Lu!” said Charlie, vehemently. We looked at each other in a sort of confused surprise. “You look as if you had scen a ghost, Lucilla,” said Charlie, at leneth. i shivered. I felt an unaccountable, sudden depression. comicbooks.com