The Game-Birds of the Coasts and Lakes of the Northern States of America: A full account of the sporting along our sea-shores and inland waters, with a comparison of the merits of breech-loaders and muzzle-loadersRoosevelt, Robert Barnwell
History
The Game-Birds of the Coasts and Lakes of the Northern States of America: A full account of the sporting along our sea-shores and inland waters, with a comparison of the merits of breech-loaders and muzzle-loaders
Roosevelt, Robert Barnwell
Game and game-birds -- North America; Hunting -- North America; Shotguns
“It is not necessary to say at what house we stopped; the island is
dotted with them--the best in the country--and as it was necessary to be
up at two o’clock in the morning in order to follow down the creek and
row out to the feeding grounds, we retired early. Strict injunctions
were left with the hostler to wake us at the appointed hour; but as
there was a grand ball going on in the hall adjoining the hotel, his
recollection was not to be depended upon.
“The beds were good; but, either disturbed by dreams of ducks or sounds
of revelry, my sleep was fitful. I was at last awakened by a loud noise,
which I took to be some one knocking at the door, and sleepily rising,
saw a light shining through the crack as it stood ajar. I woke my
companion, who responded with an unwilling grunt, and thinking the
hostler had left the candle for our accommodation, I stepped out to get
it.
“The night was cold, my dress was light and airy, the distant sounds of
expiring revelry were still faintly audible, and I hastened to get the
light that I might hurry on warmer clothes. To my surprise, on opening
the door, the candle appeared to be some yards off on the floor, in the
middle of what seemed to be an adjoining room. My eyes, dazzled by the
sudden change from total darkness, saw little as I stumbled forward; but
when I turned, light in hand, to regain my room, I came suddenly upon a
bed, and stopped as though shot.
“Gentlemen, a bed is nothing unusual or surprising in a country tavern,
but there is sometimes a great deal in it. In this particular instance
there was not even much in it, but that little was of the female sex.
Astonishment changed to admiration. She was very pretty, her rosy cheek
rested pillowed on one little hand, while the other arm was thrown
gracefully across her head, framing her innocent child-like face in a
cloud of white. She was lying on her side, and below her arm the
bed-clothes sank down to her waist and then rose in a magnificent swell.
Her hair in massive curls poured upon the pillow, and one strayed round
her throat and joined with the white drapery in protecting her neck.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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