John's sister is a widow, a lively, merry
woman, and proved rare company for me. Afterwards we rode until the sun
was nigh setting, when we came to a little hut on the shore of a broad
lake at a place called Massapog. It had been dwelt in by a white family
formerly, but it was now empty, and much decayed in the roof, and as we
did ride up to it we saw a wild animal of some sort leap out of one of
its windows, and run into the pines. Here Mr. Easton said we must make
shift to tarry through the night, as it was many miles to the house of a
white man. So, getting off our horses, we went into the hut, which had
but one room, with loose boards for a floor; and as we sat there in the
twilight, it looked dismal enough; but presently Mr. Easton, coming in
with a great load of dried boughs, struck a light in the stone
fireplace, and we soon had a roaring fire. His sister broke off some
hemlock boughs near the door, and made a broom of them, with which she
swept up the floor, so that when we sat down on blocks by the hearth,
eating our poor supper, we thought ourselves quite comfortable and tidy.
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