The World of Waters, Or, A Peaceful Progress O'er the Unpathed SeaOsborne, David, Mrs. (Fanny)
General
The World of Waters, Or, A Peaceful Progress O'er the Unpathed Sea
Osborne, David, Mrs. (Fanny)
Geography -- Juvenile literature; Voyages and travels -- Juvenile literature
looks in order, over which is suspended as many veils, green, white,
and black, as mamma's cast-off stores can furnish, through which the
brightest little pair of eyes in the world faintly twinkle like
stars through a mist. And now one touch upsets the whole mass, and a
man servant coolly lifts it up in his arms like a bale of goods, and
carries it off to the sledge.
"'These are the preparations. Now for the journey.--It was a lovely
morning as we started with our little monstrosities; ourselves in a
commodious covered sledge, various satellites of the family in a
second, followed up by rougher vehicles covered with bright worsted
rugs, and driven by the different grades of servants, wherein sat
the muffled and closely-draped lady's maids and housemaids of the
establishment; not to forget the seigneur himself, who, wrapped to
the ears, sat in solitude, driving a high-mettled animal upon a
sledge so small as to be entirely concealed by his person, so that,
to all appearance, he seemed to be gliding away only attached to the
horse by the reins in his well-guarded hands. The way led through
noble woods of Scotch and Spruce fir, sometimes catching sight of a
lofty mansion of stone, or passing a low thatched building of wood
with numberless little sash windows, where some of the nobles still
reside, and which are the remnants of more simple times. And now
"the sun rose clear o'er trackless fields of snow," and our solitary
procession jingled merrily on, while, yielding to the lulling
sounds of the bells, our little breathing bundles sank motionless
and warm into our laps and retrieved in happy slumbers the early
_escapades_ of the day. There is no such a warming-pan on a cold
winter's journey as a lovely soft child. After driving thirty
wersts, we stopped at the half-way house of an acquaintance, for
here the willing hospitality of some brother-noble is often
substituted for the miserable road-side accommodations. This was one
of the wooden houses so common in this part of Russia, and
infinitely more pleasing within than without; divided with
partitions like the tray of a work-box, fitted up with every
accommodation on a small scale; a retreat which some unambitious
pair might prefer to the palace we had quitted. After a few hours'
rest we started again with the same horses, which here perform
journeys of sixty wersts in the day with the utmost ease; and when
evening was far advanced, our little travellers pushed aside their
many-colored veils, and peeped at the lamps with astonished eyes, as
we clattered up the steep hill which led to our residence in the
town of Reval.'"
EMMA. "Well, George, what think you of that? You are so partial to
cold weather, and are so desirous to travel in a sledge, do not you
think you would like to dwell in Russia, and go about always like a
roll-pudding?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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