The Romance of Gilbert Holmes: An Historical NovelKirkman, Marshall M. (Marshall Monroe)
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The Romance of Gilbert Holmes: An Historical Novel
Kirkman, Marshall M. (Marshall Monroe)
Black Hawk War, 1832 -- Fiction
Thus reassured in some measure in regard to Blott’s purpose, we went on
to the saloon of the majestic vessel. Here again I live in the memory
of the past and what I saw, but not without a sob filling the throat,
that it should all have proven so unreal. For it is not what we see as
children, but the newness and strangeness of it, that causes our hearts
to beat and our eyes to open with wonder. Never afterward, and that is
the pity of it, does the splendor of real things cause the pulse to
throb as do the small things of youth. For the vast apartment on the
threshold of which I now stood seemed to my inexperienced eyes grand
beyond the power of speech. Nor was it cut off in its limits, but
reached away in perspective like the lengthened glade of a forest—a
forest wherein overhanging clouds were frescoed with golden filigree and
glistening silver, from which descended, as if held by outstretched
arms, row upon row of glistening chandeliers, resplendent with radiating
surfaces and pendent crystals. Such was the view; not cramped or
confined, but reaching far away and bathed in light and soft, illusive
shadows.
In the center of this vast room, tables succeeded each other as far as
the eye could reach, while on either side chairs with gilded backs
stretched away like disks of beaten gold. Above these, and from the
borders of the ceiling, ferns and wild roses drooped, and beside them
windows, half-concealed, gave a soft and glimmering light, as if the day
were just beginning. On the sides of the room there were doors without
number, of pearly white, inlaid with gold, and on the floor crimson
carpets that gave back no sound to the footfall more than the moss one
finds in the shadows of the dark woods. Such things I saw, and standing,
wondered, and there I would have stayed; but to those about me it was
only commonplace, so quickly are our impressions dulled by use. So,
with scarce time to catch my breath or give expression to my thoughts,
we hurried on to our room—and oh, its snugness and compactness! A
playhouse fit for children indeed, but for bigger animals all too small!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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