Quaint corners in Philadelphia, with one hundred and seventy-four illustrations . , it had its own poetry, and needed little helpfrom imagination. There was one woman who went ina child of eight and stayed until she died at eighty-four,and she must have known about as much of the Avorldshe left as could l)e revealed to an observant and cagedcanary. They had their ghost and their strange noises,and when the last house was torn down a skull wasturned up from the mould, and that exi)huned nuuh, ilit did not tell its own story. They had their traditicms,and as house after house was taken away and
Quaint corners in Philadelphia, with one hundred and seventy-four illustrations . , it had its own poetry, and needed little helpfrom imagination. There was one woman who went ina child of eight and stayed until she died at eighty-four,and she must have known about as much of the Avorldshe left as could l)e revealed to an observant and cagedcanary. They had their ghost and their strange noises,and when the last house was torn down a skull wasturned up from the mould, and that exi)huned nuuh, ilit did not tell its own story. They had their traditicms,and as house after house was taken away and the citysteadily stole in, they told stories of the times \\\\v\\AValnut Place was in its glory, and had its aristoc-racy and a drab-colored brilliancy. Then, at la>t, theone remaining house was torn down, the last ntse-bushrooted up, and a few exiles, turning awuy. went into agreater solitude in going into the crowded, noisy town. This idea of a rural workhouse, which was not to be a ffHMt.
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Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthorbarberedwinatlee18511, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890
