50 WINTER SKETCHES. 



with pendent blue-paper curtains partly rolled 

 and held by white strings. He said ''good- 

 night," and then I looked around at the thread- 

 bare carpet, the bureau with here and there a 

 knob, the wooden chairs, and the pine table 

 surmounted by basin and pitcher. But what 

 especially attracted my attention was the enor- 

 mous four-post bedstead with fluted columns 

 rising nearly to the ceiling, the patchwork quilt, 

 and the valance which hung half way to the 

 floor. I did not need to open a window for 

 air. Every sash was loose. The room was 

 sufficiently ventilated, and it was cold but not 

 damp, although a fire had not probably been 

 lighted there for years and years. So I climbed 

 up to the elevated sleeping plane, and falling 

 into a deep valley with mountains of feathers on 

 either side, was soon asleep, notwithstanding 

 that north-west gale which beat its night-long 

 tattoo on the rattling window sashes. 



After an early breakfast I bade adieu to my 

 liberal host. Alas for him, he lives ten miles 

 from a railroad, and knows little of the ways 

 of the world and of its impositions on the 

 guileless traveller. I had had two ''square 

 meals," an unlimited supply of gin and cider, 

 and a bed ; Fanny had had good care, a peck 



