Beadle's Dime Novels No. 38: The Wrong Man — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

86 THE WRONG MAN. summit was Occupied »y a log-cabin, which, though rude and humble, had been constructed with more attention to symme- try and neainess than was often displayed in the simple dwel- lings of the frontier inhabitants. Around it, at convenient intervals, were several little appliances for comfort, which, if clumsy substitutes for the appendages of a well-ordered farm- house in the more populous States, yet evinced a degree of industry and refinement by no means common in Ohio at that early period. The fields surrounding the house had been almost wholly cleared of the forest, presenting in that respect a marked contrast with the “clearings” of other settlers, where scanty patches of corn showed their yellow leaves be- tween girdled and blackened trees, which still spread their naked arms over the soil their foliage had long ceased to shade. The pillars of a_rude portico in front of the cabin were wreathed, and its roof almost covered, by a trumpet honey-suckle vine, whose delicious fragrance perfumed all the surrounding air. A small, neatly-inclosed garden extended a short way down the southern declivity of the bluff, and exhib- ited in its clean, graveled walks, in the order and arrangement of its plants, and in the tasteful disposition of its beds, gay with a thousand hues, the attention of woman's delicate hand. The features of this scene seemed too familiar to Charles Dudley to elicit more than a passing glance. Stepping quickly to the cabin, he tapped lightly on the door, and, without wait- ing to be invited, raised the latch and entered the rustic abode The principal apartment bore traces of refinement calculated to confirm the favorable impressions created by the exterior. On one side, a case of hanging shelves supported a small col- lection of well-chosen volumes; on the other, two portraits, evidently from the pencil of no inferior artist, were suspended from the rough-hewn wall, which had been whitewashed till its hue rivaled that of new-fallen snow. Bouquets of flowers, tastefully ar in earthen jars upon the chimney-shelf, diffused their odors throughout the room; and a few exotics, too delicate to bear the autumnal temperature of the atmos- phere, occupied a bench near a half-raised window, through which the morning sun shone pleasantly. An air of the most perfect taste pervaded the apartment, giving to it an appear ance of comfort which more stately and sumptuously furnished commie ooolks.comn