She stood by a window, holding a book in close contiguity to her nose, as if with the hope of gaining an olfactory acquaintance with its contents, since her imperfect vision made it not very easy to read them. If any volume could have manifested its essential wisdom in the mode suggested, it would certainly have been the one now in Hepzibah's hand; and the kitchen, in such an event, would forthwith have streamed with the fragrance of venison, turkeys, capons, larded partridges, puddings, cakes, and Christmas pies, in all manner of elaborate mixture and concoction. It was a cookery book, full of innumerable old fashions of English dishes, and illustrated with engravings, which represented the arrangements of the table at such banquets as it might have befitted a nobleman to give in the great hall of his castle.
Nathaniel Hawthorne,
The House of the Seven Gables
Painting: Adriaen van Utrecht (1599 - 1652)
Wow! This is deep! Thanks for getting me out of my usual YA first person mode. I love to read words that blend so well together, they feel as though they're speaking right off the page. I'm a new follower. I look forward to more inspiration. Thanks!
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