University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.

The sun had just set when we stopped at the tavern,
and I then read the cause of my companion's quizzical
look. My Hotel was a log-house of diminutive size,
with corresponding appurtenances; and from the moment
we entered its door I was in a fidget to know
where we could possibly sleep. I was then new in
Michigan. Our good hostess rose at once with a nod
of welcome.

“Well! is this Miss Clavers?” (my husband had
been there before,) “well! I want to know! why
do tell if you've been upsot in the mash? why, I
want to know!—and didn't ye hurt ye none? Come,
gals! fly round, and let's git some supper.”

“But you'll not be able to lodge us, Mrs. Danforth,”
said I, glancing at three young men and some boys,
who appeared to have come in from their work, and
who were lounging on one side of the immense open
chimney.

“Why, bless your heart! yes I shall; don't you fret
yourself: I'll give you as good a bed as any-body need
want.”

I cast an exploring look, and now discovered a door
opposite the fire.

“Jist step in here,” said Mrs. Danforth, opening
this door, “jist come in, and take off your things, and
lop down, if you're a mind to, while we're a getting
supper.”

I followed her into the room, if room it might be
called, a strip partitioned off, just six feet wide, so that
a bed was accurately fitted in at each end, and a
square space remained vacant between the two.

“We've been getting this room made lately, and I
tell you it's real nice, so private, like!” said our
hostess, with a complacent air. “Here,” she continued,
“in this bed the gals sleeps, and that's my bed
and the old man's; and then here's a trundle-bed for
Sally and Jane,” and suiting the action to the word,
she drew out the trundle-bed as far as our standing-place
would allow, to show me how convenient it was.

Here was my grand problem still unsolved! If “me
and the old man,” and the girls, and Sally and Jane,
slept in this strip, there certainly could be no room for
more, and I thought with dismay of the low-browed
roof, which had seemed to me to rest on the tops of
the window-frames. And, to make a long story short,
though manifold were the runnings up and down, and
close the whisperings before all was ready, I was at
length ushered up a steep and narrow stick-ladder, into
the sleeping apartment. Here, surrounded by beds of
all sizes spread on the floor, was a bedstead, placed under
the peak of the roof, in order to gain space for its
height, and round this state-bed, for such it evidently was,
although not supplied with pillows at each end, all the

men and boys I had seen below stairs, were to repose.
Sundry old quilts were fastened by forks to the rafters
in such a way as to serve as a partial screen, and with
this I was obliged to be content. Excessive fatigue is
not fastidious. I called to mind some canal-boat experiences,
and resigned myself to the “honey-heavy dew
of slumber.”

I awoke with a sense of suffocation—started up—all
was dark as the Hall of Eblis. I called—no answer
came; I shrieked! and up ran one of the “gals.”

“What on airth's the matter?”

“Where am I? What ails me?” said I, beginning
to feel a little awkward when I heard the damsel's
voice.

“Why, I guess you was scairt, wa'n't ye?”

“Why am I in the dark? Is it morning?”

“Morning? why, the boys has been gone away this
hour, and, you see, there ain't no winder up here, but
I'll take down this here quilt, and then I guess you'll
be able to see some.”

She did so, and I began to discern

which, after my eyes had become somewhat accustomed
to it, served very well to dress by.

Upon descending the ladder, I found our breakfast
prepared on a very neat-looking table, and Mrs. Danforth
with her clean apron on, ready to do the honours.

Seeing me looking round with inquiring eye, she
said, “Oh! you'm lookin' for a wash-dish, a'n't ye!”
and forth with put some water into a little iron skillet,

and carried it out to a bench which stood under the
eaves, where I performed my very limited ablutions
al fresco, not at all pleased with this part of country
habits.

I bethought me of a story I had heard before we
crossed the line, of a gentleman travelling in Michigan,
who instead of a “wash-dish” was directed to the
spring, and when he requested a towel received for answer:
“Why, I should think you had a hankercher!”

After breakfast, I expressed a wish to accompany
Mr. Clavers to the village tract; but he thought a
very bad marsh would make the ride unpleasant.

“Lord bless ye!” said Mr. Danforth, “that mash
has got a real handsome bridge over it since you was
here last.”

So we set out in the buggy and rode several miles
through an alternation of open glades with fine walnut
trees scattered over them, and “bosky dells” fragrant
as “Araby the blest” at that delicious hour, when
the dews filled the air with the scent of the bursting
leaves.

By and bye, we came to the “beautiful bridge,” a
newly-laid causeway of large round logs, with a slough
of despond to be crossed in order to reach it. I would
not consent to turn back, however, and in we went, the
buggy standing it most commendably. When we
reached the first log our poor Rozinante stopped in
utter despair, and some persuasion was necessary to
induce him to rear high enough to place his fore feet
upon the bridge, and when he accomplished this feat,
and after a rest essayed to make the buggy rear too,
it was neck or nothing. Yet up we went, and then

came the severe part of the achievement, a “beautiful
bridge” half a mile long!

Half a rod was enough for me, I cried for quarter,
and was permitted to pick my way over its slippery
eminences, to the utter annihilation of a pair of Lane's
shoes.