Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and DiaryAddison, Daniel Dulany
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Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary
Addison, Daniel Dulany
Authors, American -- 19th century -- Biography; Larcom, Lucy, 1824-1893
Well, for my convenience, I beg that you will borrow the wings of a
dove, and come and sit down here by me. There,--don’t you see what
a nice little room we are in? To be sure, one side of it has not
got any _side_ to it, because the man couldn’t afford to lath and
plaster it, but that patch curtain that Emeline has hung up makes it
snug enough for summer time, and reminds us of the days of ancient
tapestried halls, and all that. That door, where the curtain is,
goes into the entry; and there, right opposite, is another one that
goes into the parlor, but I shall not go in there with you, because
there aren’t any chairs in there; you might sit on Emeline’s blue
trunk, or Sarah’s green one, though; but I’m afraid you’d go behind
the sheet in the corner, and steal some of Emeline’s milk that she’s
saving to make butter of; and then, just as likely as not, you’d want
to know why that square piece of board was put on the bottom of the
window, with the pitchfork stuck into it to keep it from falling; of
course, we shouldn’t like to tell you that there’s a square of glass
out, and I suppose you don’t know about that great tom-cat’s coming
in, two nights, after we had all gone to bed, and making that awful
caterwauling. So you had better stay here in the kitchen, and I’ll show
you all the things; it won’t take long. That door at the top of three
steps leads upstairs; the little low one close to it is the closet
door,--you needn’t go prying in there, to see what we’ve got to eat,
for you’ll certainly bump your head if you do; pass by the parlor door
and the curtain, and look out of that window on the front side of the
house; if it was not so dark, you might see the beautiful flower-beds
that Sarah has made,--a big diamond in the centre, with four triangles
to match it. As true as I live, she has been making her initials right
in the centre of the diamond! There’s a great S, and an M, but where’s
the H? Oh! you don’t know how that dog came in and scratched it all up,
and laid down there to sun himself, the other day. We tell her there’s
a sign to it,--losing her maiden name so soon. She declares she won’t
have it altered by a puppy, though. These two windows look (through
the fence) over to our next neighbor’s; that’s our new cooking-stove
between them; isn’t it a cunning one? the funnel goes up clear through
Emeline’s bedroom, till it gets to “outdoors.” We keep our chimney in
the parlor. Then that door on the other side looks away across the
prairie, three or four miles; and that brings us to where we started
from.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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