A little bedstead in
the corner was covered with a spread made of New York "Heralds"
with their edges pasted together.
"There is nothing better," said Barbel, noticing my glance
toward this novel counterpane, "for a bed-covering than
newspapers; they keep you as warm as a blanket, and are much
lighter. I used to use `Tribunes,' but they rattled too much."
The only part of the room which was well lighted was one
end near the solitary window. Here, upon a table with a spliced
leg, stood a little grindstone.
"At the other end of the room," said Barbel, "is my cook-
stove, which you can't see unless I light the candle in the
bottle which stands by it. But if you don't care particularly to
examine it, I won't go to the expense of lighting up. You might
pick up a good many odd pieces of bric-a-brac, around here, if
you chose to strike a match and investigate. But I would not
advise you to do so. It would pay better to throw the things out
of the window than to carry them down-stairs. The particular
piece of indoor decoration to which I wish to call your attention
is this." And he led me to a little wooden frame which hung
against the wall near the window. Behind a dusty piece of glass
it held what appeared to be a leaf from a small magazine or
journal. "There," said he, "you see a page from the
`Grasshopper,' a humorous paper which flourished in this city
some half-dozen years ago. I used to write regularly for that
paper, as you may remember.
Pages:
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