. Erinnerungen an Auton House .. . Trunkskilling Mücken, in einem Schrank an der Spitze einer hölzernen Karawanserei, für zehn Dollar pro Tag, und sagen, sie sind glücklich. Die Menschen waren im August in die Quellen, um das Wasser zu trinken, und lebten den Rest des Jahres mit Vorbehalt zu Hause. Heute, im Gegenteil, sie tun ganz das Gegenteil. Auton Küche lief an, ohne für fünfzig Jahre zu stoppen. Gute, treue Rosannah! Sie hat ihren letzten truthahn gekocht, sie hat ihren letzten Kuchen zubereitet, und das Geheimnis ihrer Würze ist mit ihr gegangen.mit leichter Umschreibung wären die sterbenden Worte, die dieser gealterten Frau zugeschrieben werden, ein

• Bildanbieter: Reading Room 2020 / Alamy Stock Foto
• Bild-ID: 2CNPXCX
• Dateigröße: 7,2 MB (311,9 KB Komprimierter Download)
• Freigaben (Releases): Model - nein | Eigentum - nein
• Format: 1404 x 1780 px | 23,8 x 30,1 cm | 9,4 x 11,9 inches | 150dpi

Weitere Informationen

Dieses Bild kann kleinere Mängel aufweisen, da es sich um ein historisches Bild oder ein Reportagebild handel

. Recollections of Auton House .. . trunkskilling mosquitoes, in a closet at the top of a wooden caravansary, at ten dollars per day, and say they are happy. People used to goto the Springs, in August, to drink the waters, and lived con-tentedly at home the rest of the year. Nowadays, on the contrary, they do quite the reverse. Auton kitchen ran on without stopping for fifty years. Good, faithful Rosannah ! She has cooked her last turkey, she has madeher last pie, and the secret of her seasoning departed with her.With slight paraphrase, the dying words attributed to that tiredold woman would be applicable to her: — Her last words on earth were : Dear friends, I am goingWhere washing aint done, nor starching nor sewing.And everything there will be just to my wishes, For where they dont eat there s no washing of dishes.I 11 be where loud anthems will always be ringing, But having no voice I 11 get rid of the singing.Dont mourn for me now, dont mourn for me never, For Im going to do nothing for ever and ever. CHAPTER ELEVENTH.. CHRISTMAS AT AUTON HOUSE. UEER as it may seem, the Autons never hungup their stockings at Christmas. They putout their shoes instead. Why it was so is aquestion, but as no Auton ever did it, no Au-ton ever would. We regularly sang, how-ever, Mr. Moores Night before Christmas, and thought we had fully complied with therequirements of the lines : — The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In the hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. Possibly this departure from the ancient rule arose from our cus-tom of receiving presents after breakfast, and also that our great, great, great grandmother was a French Huguenot, and preferredthe sabot. We only troubled Santa Glaus in the early morning fora bundle of candy, and such other knickknacks as he might feel in-clined to bestow. Our boots and shoes being the chosen vessels to receive, this earlyfreight, they were set on the mahogany table in the upper hall, andwere ranged from fathers down to the

Stockbilder mithilfe von Tags suchen

• bookcentury1800
• bookdecade1880
• bookidrecollectionsofa00hopp2