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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 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 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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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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