The Continental Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 1, January 1862: Devoted to Literature and National PolicyVarious
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 1, January 1862: Devoted to Literature and National Policy
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
Entering the house, we saw, by the light of a blazing pile of pine
knots, which roared and crackled on the hearth, that it contained only a
single apartment, about twenty feet square. In front of the fire-place,
which occupied the better half of one side of the room, the floor was of
the bare earth, littered over with pine chips, dead cinders, live coals,
broken pots, and a lazy spaniel dog. Opposite to this, at the other end
of the room, were two low beds, which looked as if they had been 'slept
in forever, and never made up.' Against the wall, between the beds and
the fire-place, stood a small pine table, and on it was a large wooden
bowl, from whose mouth protruded the handles of several unwashed pewter
spoons. On the right of the fire was a razeed rocking-chair, evidently
the peculiar property of the mistress of the mansion, and three blocks
of pine log, sawn off smoothly, and made to serve for seats. Over
against these towered a high-backed settle, something like that on which
'sot Huldy all alone,
When Zeke peeked thru the winder;'
and on it, her head resting partly on her arm, partly on the end of the
settle, one small, bare foot pressing the ground, the other, with the
part of the person which is supposed to require stockings, extended in a
horizontal direction,--reclined, not Huldy, but her Southern cousin,
who, I will wager, was decidedly the prettier and dirtier of the two.
Our entrance did not seem to disconcert her in the least, for she lay
there as unmoved as a marble statue, her large black eyes riveted on my
face as if seeing some nondescript animal for the first time. I stood
for a moment transfixed with admiration. In a somewhat extensive
observation of her sex, in both hemispheres, I had never witnessed such
a form, such eyes, such faultless features, and such wavy, black,
luxuriant hair. A glance at her dress,--a soiled, greasy, grayish
linsey-woolsey gown, apparently her only garment,--and a second look at
her face, which, on closer inspection, had precisely the hue of a tallow
candle, recalled me to myself, and allowed me to complete the survey of
the premises.
The house was built of unhewn logs, separated by wide interstices,
through which the cold air came, in decidedly fresh if not health-giving
currents, while a large rent in the roof, that let in the rain, gave the
inmates an excellent opportunity for indulging in a shower-bath, of
which they seemed greatly in need. The chimney, which had intruded a
couple of feet into the room, as if to keep out of the cold, and
threatened momentarily to tumble down, was of sticks, built up in clay,
while the windows were of thick, unplaned boards.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account