Beadle's Dime Novels, No. 11 — page 66: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

64 THE PRISONER OF LA VINTRESSE. whiteness; every thing bespoke comfort, neatness, and a farmer's rude wealth. The rooms were nearly all of the quaint pattern, large, high-ceiled, and heayily-corniced, with oaken framing, and but one was fitted up in modern style. This was the front room on the east side of the dwelling, and rejoiced in a carpet of rich pattern and coloring; a pianoforte, two or three couches, a beautiful desk of some West India wood, and chairs massive and polished. Here might often be seen little Jessie Goreham, the fair lily of the family, her soft, light hair - braided about a brow of surpassing whiteness; her blue eyes wandering dreamily from object to object; her little fingers busily plying knitting-needles, or touching the notes of the piano, her father’s birthday present. When she played after the day’s work was done, Farmer Goreham might always be found -outside.of the parlor-door on the broad straw settee, handkerchief over his face, listening to every music-dropping note. Honest Ben stood six feet and four inches. He was a powerful, swarthy-browed, and handsome man; had been a hard, earnest worker, and as laborious a thinker. Authors of — wondrous research stood upon the shelves in his library ; books that were born of and for capacious and far-reaching intel- lect were his daily study. His wife was what would be called a gentle, ladylike woman, famous for her housekeeping quali- ties, and noticeable for her great reverence for her tall hus- ~ band. ‘They had but two children, Jessie and Herman, their pride, and their greatest carthly blessing. It was a pleasant, red twilight, just afer a refreshing shower. Mrs. Goreham was walking reflectively through rows of early pears, all put up in baskets as white as drifted snow. “ Sarah,” she said, to a red-cheeked girl, “I know Mrs. Wise at the hotel would like some of these pears; suppose you pick out a hand-basket full, and carry them up in the morning.” “Tl do so,” said the girl. “ And don’t let any thing happen to ghe eggs again—you broke three this morning. Not that I care for the eggs, but your habits are somewhat careless, and I wish you to correct them.” . | “Yes ‘m,” said Sarah, demurely. | In the door-way, watching the great piles of drifted clouds, stood Jessie and her father. Both of them wore sa touching ~— Gomiclooks.corn |