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- 2026-01-30T07:57:45.581Z
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- 2689
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- his grand canal through the Isthmus of Corinth. Nor will I take oath,
that, had her project been accomplished, then, by help of lights hung
at judicious intervals through the tunnel, some Belzoni or other might
have succeeded in future ages in penetrating through the masonry, and
actually emerging into the dining-room, and once there, it would have
been inhospitable treatment of such a traveler to have denied him a
recruiting meal.
But my bustling wife did not restrict her objections, nor in the end
confine her proposed alterations to the first floor. Her ambition was
of the mounting order. She ascended with her schemes to the second
floor, and so to the attic. Perhaps there was some small ground for
her discontent with things as they were. The truth is, there was no
regular passage-way up-stairs or down, unless we again except that
little orchestra-gallery before mentioned. And all this was owing to
the chimney, which my gamesome spouse seemed despitefully to regard as
the bully of the house. On all its four sides, nearly all the chambers
sidled up to the chimney for the benefit of a fireplace. The chimney
would not go to them; they must needs go to it. The consequence was,
almost every room, like a philosophical system, was in itself an entry,
or passage-way to other rooms, and systems of rooms--a whole suite of
entries, in fact. Going through the house, you seem to be forever going
somewhere, and getting nowhere. It is like losing one's self in the
woods; round and round the chimney you go, and if you arrive at all,
it is just where you started, and so you begin again, and again get
nowhere. Indeed--though I say it not in the way of fault-finding at
all--never was there so labyrinthine an abode. Guests will tarry with
me several weeks and every now and then, be anew astonished at some
unforseen apartment.
The puzzling nature of the mansion, resulting from the chimney, is
peculiarly noticeable in the dining-room, which has no less than nine
doors, opening in all directions, and into all sorts of places. A
stranger for the first time entering this dining-room, and naturally
taking no special heed at which door he entered, will, upon rising to
depart, commit the strangest blunders. Such, for instance, as opening
the first door that comes handy, and finding himself stealing up-stairs
by the back passage. Shutting that he will proceed to another, and be
aghast at the cellar yawning at his feet. Trying a third, he surprises
the housemaid at her work. In the end, no more relying on his own
unaided efforts, he procures a trusty guide in some passing person,
and in good time successfully emerges. Perhaps as curious a blunder as
any, was that of a certain stylish young gentleman, a great exquisite,
in whose judicious eyes my daughter Anna had found especial favor.
He called upon the young lady one evening, and found her alone in
the dining-room at her needlework. He stayed rather late; and after
abundance of superfine discourse, all the while retaining his hat
and cane, made his profuse adieus, and with repeated graceful bows
proceeded to depart, after fashion of courtiers from the Queen, and by
so doing, opening a door at random, with one hand placed behind, very
effectually succeeded in backing himself into a dark pantry, where
he carefully shut himself up, wondering there was no light in the
entry. After several strange noises as of a cat among the crockery,
he reappeared through the same door, looking uncommonly crestfallen,
and, with a deeply embarrassed air, requested my daughter to designate
at which of the nine he should find exit. When the mischievous Anna
told me the story, she said it was surprising how unaffected and
matter-of-fact the young gentleman's manner was after his reappearance.
He was more candid than ever, to be sure; having inadvertently
thrust his white kids into an open drawer of Havana sugar, under the
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