Still no prospect of a lodging; so here we remain. I never
before lived in a house without a balcony, and have only now found out how
inconvenient it is. The whole establishment consists of two rooms on each side
of a passage as wide as the front door; and as it has a very low ceiling, with
no opening, and no shade near, it is decidedly the warmest spot I ever
inhabited. We all sleep on the floor and keep our clothes in our trunks —
except Lilly, who has an armoir without doors. Knives and forks for dinner
to-day, though the table still consists of a single plank. The house really has
a suffocating effect on me, there is such a close look about it. The front is
fully a foot below the level of the street, while quite a flight of steps leads
from the back door to the yard. In fact, the whole town consists of abrupt
little mounds. It is rather a pretty place; but Heaven save me from the misery
of living in it! Miriam is crazy to remain — even advocates that dirty, bare,
shutterless boarding-house where we passed the first night, from what
attraction I cannot imagine. I am just as anxious to get into the country. I
would hate the dull round of this little place; I prefer solitude where I can
do as I please without being observed. Here we are as well known by people we
never before heard of as though we were fellow-citizens.
SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's
Diary, p. 206-7
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