And I rubbed my eyes again,--I must have slept.
WHAT THE TEA-KETTLE SAID.
About the time the chairs had a talk together, I believe I told you.
Well, ever since that time I have been afflicted, now and then, with that
same disease of the eyes, inclining them to close. In fact, I am rather
of the opinion that the affliction must be one of the ear, too, for I
hear some curious things while the spell is on. Either that, or else
something has "gotten into" the furniture about my house. It beats all,
the time I had the other day. It was a cold, wet October day, the wind
whistled through the key-holes and shook the sash violently, while the
rain drizzled wretchedly against the glass.
As there happened to be no fire anywhere else, I took a seat in the
kitchen. There I sat in the heat of the cooking-stove, and reading, or
trying to read Rollin's "Ancient History." But the book was dull, and the
day was dull, and it really seemed to me that I was duller than anything
else. Hannibal and Themistocles, Spain and Carthage, and Rome seemed to
me the dullest things in the world. I wondered how people that were so
dull had managed to live, and how so stupid a fellow as Monsieur Rollin
ever contrived to write so big and dull a book.
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