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Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 1804-1864

"Passages from the English Notebooks, Volume 1."


By and by our kind guide had to stop at an intermediate farm; but he gave
us full directions how to proceed, and we went on till it began to shower
again pretty briskly, and we took refuge in a little bit of old stone
cottage, which, small as it was, had a greater antiquity than any mansion
in America. The door was open, and as we approached, we saw several
children gazing at us; and their mother, a pleasant-looking woman, who
seemed rather astounded at the visit that was about to befall her, tried
to draw a tattered curtain over a part of her interior, which she fancied
even less fit to be seen than the rest. To say the truth, the house was
not at all better than a pigsty; and while we sat there, a pig came
familiarly to the door, thrust in his snout, and seemed surprised that he
should he driven away, instead of being admitted as one of the family.
The floor was of brick; there was no ceiling, but only the peaked gable
overhead. The room was kitchen, parlor, and, I suppose, bedroom for the
whole family; at all events, there was only the tattered curtain between
us and the sleeping accommodations. The good woman either could not or
would not speak a word of English, only laughing when S----- said, "Dim
Sassenach?" but she was kind and hospitable, and found a chair for each
of us. She had been making some bread, and the dough was on the dresser.
Life with these people is reduced to its simplest elements.


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