DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.68288#0059
DAN FRENCH’S FIRST APPEARANCE 35
room with two fireplaces, a soft grey paper sparsely dotted
with tiny gold medallions and floating ribbons, and with
what we called ‘vanishing’ mirrors, between the windows
at each end, and resplendent with red damask. This dam-
ask had come from the Supreme Court. When the Court
was refurnished, my uncle, being on the spot, had bought
the damask. The remnants still decorate our living-room
at ‘ Chesterwood.’
The curtains in the old parlor had gold metal lambre-
quins across the top,,and, halfway down, great gold orna-
ments to drape them back. All the chairs and ottomans
were covered with the damask, and two rosewood sofas,
the backs going up in points at each end, and sagging in
the middle like a broken-backed horse, but delicate and
carved, not like most of the horsehair furniture of the
day.
The round mirrors between the red curtains at either
end of the room were also a source of great amusement to
us children. They were convex, with glass prisms, and
had a curious way of enlarging and decreasing the reflected
image, and we used to stand in the great silent room —
all parlors are more or less silent — moving slowly back-
ward and forward, making faces, sticking out our tongues,
and distorting our bodies in noisy delight.
Over the door of the library, across the hall, hung, dur-
ing my childhood, the long clay pipe with which my aunt,
when a little girl, had been presented by Andrew Jackson
for the purpose of blowing soapbubbles, but I am quite
sure it was never used except as a decoration.
My uncle must have been a very interesting personage
— very much beloved. He was a lawyer, but held various
public positions, Marshal, Commissioner of Public Build-
room with two fireplaces, a soft grey paper sparsely dotted
with tiny gold medallions and floating ribbons, and with
what we called ‘vanishing’ mirrors, between the windows
at each end, and resplendent with red damask. This dam-
ask had come from the Supreme Court. When the Court
was refurnished, my uncle, being on the spot, had bought
the damask. The remnants still decorate our living-room
at ‘ Chesterwood.’
The curtains in the old parlor had gold metal lambre-
quins across the top,,and, halfway down, great gold orna-
ments to drape them back. All the chairs and ottomans
were covered with the damask, and two rosewood sofas,
the backs going up in points at each end, and sagging in
the middle like a broken-backed horse, but delicate and
carved, not like most of the horsehair furniture of the
day.
The round mirrors between the red curtains at either
end of the room were also a source of great amusement to
us children. They were convex, with glass prisms, and
had a curious way of enlarging and decreasing the reflected
image, and we used to stand in the great silent room —
all parlors are more or less silent — moving slowly back-
ward and forward, making faces, sticking out our tongues,
and distorting our bodies in noisy delight.
Over the door of the library, across the hall, hung, dur-
ing my childhood, the long clay pipe with which my aunt,
when a little girl, had been presented by Andrew Jackson
for the purpose of blowing soapbubbles, but I am quite
sure it was never used except as a decoration.
My uncle must have been a very interesting personage
— very much beloved. He was a lawyer, but held various
public positions, Marshal, Commissioner of Public Build-