RECOLLECTIONS OF FULL YEARS
the result was a conspicuous architectural success, to my mind it was anything but a failure. And our view of the Ohio River and the surrounding country was really superb.
But I was not destined to enjoy my satisfaction with my surroundings very long. The section had been at one time a stone quarry, and the man who had levelled off the land and filled in the gulches made by the quarry operations, took as a part of his compensation two building lots which happened to be just across the street from ours. He forthwith proceeded to put up a sort of double house which looked more like a gigantic dry-goods box than anything else, and I felt that it quite robbed the neighbourhood of the “tone” which I had confidently hoped our house would give it. The double house had just one quality and that was size.
I think the owner, whose name was Jerry something, lived in one side of it, and he had a tenant in the other who hung clothes out of the front windows. But tastes in architecture differ, as we soon found out.
We were paying taxes on our house at an assessed value of $4000 and the undervaluation had been troubling my husband’s conscience for a long time, in spite of my assuring him that tax collectors ought to know their own business. Some men from the board of equalization were to call one day to make a new appraisement and I had very much hoped that my husband would not be at home. But he was; he was there to welcome them and give them every possible assistance. Without waiting for an examination of the premises, he addressed one of them, an Irishman named Ryan.
“See here, Mr. Ryan,” he said, “I understand that Jerry, my neighbour across the street, has his property assessed at $5000. Now I don’t think that’s fair. I’m assessed at only $4000 and I’m sure my house cost a good deal more than his. As a matter of fact it cost over $6000. Now I’m
a Judge of the Superior Court; I get my income out of taxes
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