A door opened into an
inner room, which contained another bed and conveniences for washing. A
closet in the wall held matches, soap, and other articles. Every thing
was scrupulously neat and clean. On the table were laid a number of
Shaker books and newspapers. In one corner of the room was a bell, used,
as I afterward discovered, to summon the visitor to his meals. As I
looked out of a window, I perceived that the sash was fitted with
screws, by means of which the windows could be so secured as not to
rattle in stormy weather; while the lower sash of one window was raised
three or four inches, and a strip of neatly fitting plank was inserted
in the opening--this allowed ventilation between the upper and lower
sashes, thus preventing a direct draught, while securing fresh air.
I was still admiring these ingenious little contrivances, when, with a
preliminary knock, entered to me a tall, slender young man, who, hanging
his broad-brimmed hat on a peg, announced himself to me as the brother
who was to care for me during my stay. He was a Swede, a student of the
university in his own country, and a person of intelligence, some
literary culture, and I should think of good family. His attention had
been attracted to the Shakers by Mr.
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