The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 13, September, 1835Various
History
The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 13, September, 1835
Various
American literature -- 19th century -- Periodicals
Opposite him, and with her back to the door, was a lady of no whit the
less extraordinary character. Although quite as tall as the person who
has just been described, she had no right to complain of his unnatural
emaciation. She was evidently in the last stage of a dropsy; and her
figure resembled nearly in outline the shapeless proportions of the
huge puncheon of October beer which stood, with the head driven in,
close by her side, in a corner of the chamber. Her face was
exceedingly round, red, and full--and the same peculiarity, or rather
want of peculiarity, attached itself to her countenance, which I
before mentioned in the case of the president--that is to say, only
one feature of her face was sufficiently distinguished to need a
separate characterization: indeed, the acute Tarpaulin immediately
observed that the same remark might have applied to each individual
person of the party; every one of whom seemed to possess a monopoly of
some particular portion of physiognomy. With the lady in question this
portion proved to be the mouth. Commencing at the right ear, it swept
with a terrific chasm to the left--the short pendants which she wore
in either auricle continually bobbing into the aperture. She made,
however, every exertion to keep her jaws closed and look dignified, in
a dress consisting of a newly starched and ironed shroud coming up
close under her chin, with a crimped ruffle of cambric muslin.
At her right hand sat a diminutive young lady whom she appeared to
patronize. This delicate little creature, in the trembling of her
wasted fingers, in the livid hue of her lips, and in the slight hectic
spot which tinged her otherwise leaden complexion, gave evident
indications of a galloping consumption.
An air of extreme _haut ton_, however, pervaded her whole
appearance--she wore in a graceful and _degagé_ manner, a large and
beautiful winding-sheet of the finest India lawn--her hair hung in
ringlets over her neck--a soft smile played about her mouth--but her
nose, extremely long, thin, sinuous, flexible, and pimpled, hung down
far below her under lip, and, in spite of the delicate manner in which
she now and then moved it to one side or the other with her tongue,
gave an expression rather doubtful to her countenance.
Over against her, and upon the left of the dropsical lady, was seated
a little puffy, wheezing, and gouty old man, whose cheeks hung down
upon the shoulders of their owner, like two huge bladders of Oporto
wine. With his arms folded, and with one bandaged leg cocked up
against the table, he seemed to think himself entitled to some
consideration.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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