We retired early and our beds wuz quite comfortable, though as I told Josiah, I had seen bigger pillers, and I wuz more settled in my 61 mind, as to whether the feathers in ’em wuz geese or hen.
He said he wuz glad to lay his head down on anything that would hold it up.
And after I remembered that Miss Dagget’s bed wuz jest the other side of the thin board partition. I sez, “Yes, Josiah, with weariness and a easy conscience, any bed will seem soft as downy pillows are.”
The next day I felt pretty mauger and stayed in my room most of the time, though Josiah and the children sallied round considerable. But after supper I felt better and went out and set down on the piazza that run along the front of the house, and looked round and enjoyed myself first rate.
Way off, between the trees and between the houses, I could see the dear old Saint meanderin’ along, blue and gold colored where the sun struck the shining surface. And, dearer sight to me, I could catch a glimpse through the interstices of the trees, of my beloved pardner and little Delight in her white dress and flutterin’ blue ribbons walkin’ along by his side. Whitfield and Tirzah Ann had gone santerin’ off some time before.
The hour and the seen wuz both beautiful 62 and soothin’. The little streets between the houses stretched out on every side, some on ’em bordered with trees. Gay awnings wuz over the doors and winders, flowering shrubs and posies set off the yards, and the piazzas ornamented by the good-lookin’ folks settin’ out on chairs and benches, the wimmen in light, pretty summer gowns, and there wuz babies in their perambulators perambulatin’ along and pretty children runnin’ and playin’ about.
Anon or oftener a group of good-lookin’ cottagers would sally out of their houses and santer along, or a pedestrian in a hurry would walk by. It seemed like the land where it is always afternoon, that I’d hearn Thomas J. read about,
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The island valley of Avilion, Where falls not rain or hail or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly— Deep meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows, crowned by summer sea. |
It wuz a fair seen! a fair seen! and my soul seemed attuned to its perfect harmony and peace. When all of a sudden I hearn these strange and skairful words comin’ like a sharp shower of hail from a clear June sky:—