Writings by Susan Dickinson

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  fan sent from a 1000 miles up the Nile by an
old friend -- Tea and coffee with delicious cream
very high raised biscuit sliced tongue red and tender
escalloped oysters with many kinds of delicious home-
made cake was the invariable supper -- Friendly
talk was the only entertainment except perhaps just
at the end of the evening the open piano suggested
a little music was desired, and sweet voices some-
what decadent sang sweetly but with timidity "Are
we almost there, said the dying girl" -- "Coming thru
the rye" -- &tc where a resident basso with a tone
really below any known real musical necessity
would after the habitual urging would give
us "rocked in the cradle of the deep" -- the refrain
held with such sustained power I am sure the
glasses in the cupboard tinkled -- By that time
music was in the air and with a rousing cheer
all stood about the piano and sang America or "Auld acquaintance"
we were all in a glow as we went out for our
wraps -- I can never forget Mrs Sweetser's last passing
gallantry -- standing on the top of the high terrace
step holding an oil lantern in the air for our safety the only
revealer of the night in all Amherst -- Those
lanterns and "lantern-bearers" what chapters
could be written of them! Stevenson alone could
do them justice -- As a young girl after this experience
as I removed my few simple adornings I used to
wonder to myself why in the many noon

H bMS Am 1118.95, Box 9

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Writings by Susan Dickinson Main Page
Image reproduced by permission of the Houghton Library, Harvard University.
Not to be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.
Transcription and commentary copyright 1998 by Martha Nell Smith,
Laura Elyn Lauth, and Lara Vetter, all rights reserved
Maintained by Rebecca Mooney  <rnmooney@umd.edu>
Last updated on January 25, 2008

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