The Continental Monthly, Vol. 3, No. 1 January 1863: Devoted To Literature And National PolicyVarious
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol. 3, No. 1 January 1863: Devoted To Literature And National Policy
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
The remainder of the day passed quietly, and the hour for retiring
approached. Before Ann Harriet's arrival, it had been arranged that she
should share Miranda's bed; but it was now very evident that Ann would
get very much more than her share, and it was therefore decided to give
her a bed to herself. A lamp was brought, and Aunt Farnsworth escorted
her to her room, and bade her good night. Ann Harriet had the usual
share of curiosity which all females--even plump ones--possess; and
wishing to know how a Boston street appeared in the evening, she hoisted
the curtain with a vigorous jerk, and looked forth: it was not a very
beautiful scene; long rows of brick houses stretched away on either
side, relieved at intervals by the street lamps and loafers, which, as
they appeared at a distance, reminded her of a torchlight procession she
had witnessed once in Peonytown, when the Hickory Club turned out with
twenty torches and a colored lantern. Having satisfied her eyes with the
view, she attempted to draw down the curtain, and found that it would
not move. She had pulled it up so vigorously that the cord had slipped
from the wheel, and rendered the curtain immovable. By stepping on a
chair she could, indeed, reach and adjust it; but the only chairs in the
room were cane-seated, and seemed altogether too fragile for such a
weighty lady as Ann Harriet. To add to her perplexity, the dwelling
directly opposite was a boarding house, full of young men; and she
noticed that one or two of them had already discovered her, and that the
news was probably being communicated to all their fellow boarders, for
in a very few minutes every window had two or more spectators at it,
armed with opera or eye glasses, while one saucy fellow had a telescope
three feet long. What to do she did not know: there was but one window
in the room, and no recess into which her portly beauty could retreat.
Once more she tried the curtain, giving it a forcible twitch, and this
time it came down--but the whole fixture came with it, and, after
striking her on the head, slid out of the window into the street, much
to the amusement of the spectators opposite.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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