Blinds and curtains
are all down, and every livin' critter is asleep, breathing the nasty,
hot, confined, unwholesome air of their bed-rooms, instead of inhaling
the cool dewy breeze of heaven.
"Is it any wonder that the galls are thin, and pale, and delicate, and
are so languid, they look as if they were givin' themselves airs, when
all they want is air? or that the men complain of dyspepsy, and look
hollow and unhealthy, having neither cheeks, stomach, nor thighs, and
have to take bitters to get an appetite for their food, and pickles
and red pepper to digest it? The sun is up, and has performed the
first stage of his journey before the maid turns out, opens the front
door, and takes a look up and down street, to see who is a stirrin'.
Early risin' must be cheerfulsome, for she is very chipper, and throws
some orange-peel at the shopman of their next neighbour, as a hint if
he was to chase her, he would catch her behind the hall-door, as he
did yesterday, after which she would show him into the supper-room,
where the liquors and cakes are still standing as they were left last
night.
"Yes, she is right to hide, for it is decent, if it ain't modest,
seein' the way she has jumped into her clothes, and the danger there
is of jumping out of them again. How can it be otherwise, when she has
to get up so horrid early? It's all the fault of the vile milkman, who
will come for fear his milk will get sour; and that beast, the iceman,
who won't wait, for fear his ice will melt; and that stupid nigger who
will brush the shoes then, he has so many to clean elsewhere.
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