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"Compiled From Her Letters and Journals by Her Son Charles Edward Stowe"

They soon left the chamber, and I saw them go
down into the back kitchen, where they sat and played and talked with
my mother. It was only when the man took the bow that I could hear the
harsh, abrupt, disagreeable sounds of the instrument. At length they
arose, went out of the back door, and sprang upon a large heap of
straw and unthreshed beans, and disappeared with a strange, rumbling
sound. This vision was repeated night after night with scarcely any
variation while we lived in that house, and once, and once only, after
the family had removed to the other house. The only thing that seemed
to me unaccountable and that excited my curiosity was that there
should be such a large heap of straw and beans before the door every
night, when I could see nothing of it in the daytime. I frequently
crept out of bed and stole softly down into the kitchen, and peeped
out of the door to see if it was there very early in the morning.
"I attempted to make some inquiries of my mother, but as I was not as
yet very skillful in the use of language, I could get no satisfaction
out of her answers, and could see that my questions seemed to distress
her. At first she took little notice of what I said, regarding it no
doubt as the meaningless prattle of a thoughtless child. My
persistence, however, seemed to alarm her, and I suppose that she
feared for my sanity. I soon desisted from asking anything further,
and shut myself more and more within myself.


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