Chapter 38

Chapter 38
The House Beautiful

WE took passage in a Cincinnati boat for New Orleans; or on a Cincinnati boat--
either is correct; the former is the eastern form of putting it,
the latter the western.

Mr. Dickens declined to agree that the Mississippi steamboats
were 'magnificent,' or that they were 'floating palaces,'--
terms which had always been applied to them; terms which did not
over-express the admiration with which the people viewed them.

Mr. Dickens's position was unassailable, possibly; the people's
position was certainly unassailable. If Mr. Dickens was
comparing these boats with the crown jewels; or with the Taj,
or with the Matterhorn; or with some other priceless or wonderful
thing which he had seen, they were not magnificent--he was right.
The people compared them with what they had seen; and, thus measured,
thus judged, the boats were magnificent--the term was the correct one,
it was not at all too strong. The people were as right as was
Mr. Dickens. The steamboats were finer than anything on shore.
Compared with superior dwelling-houses and first-class hotels in
the Valley, they were indubitably magnificent, they were 'palaces.'
To a few people living in New Orleans and St. Louis, they were
not magnificent, perhaps; not palaces; but to the great majority
of those populations, and to the entire populations spread over
both banks between Baton Rouge and St. Louis, they were palaces;
they tallied with the citizen's dream of what magnificence was,
and satisfied it.

Every town and village along that vast stretch of double
river-frontage had a best dwelling, finest dwelling, mansion,--
the home of its wealthiest and most conspicuous citizen.
It is easy to describe it: large grassy yard, with paling
fence painted white--in fair repair; brick walk from gate
to door; big, square, two-story 'frame' house, painted white
and porticoed like a Grecian temple--with this difference,
that the imposing fluted columns and Corinthian capitals
were a pathetic sham, being made of white pine, and painted;
iron knocker; brass door knob--discolored, for lack
of polishing. Within, an uncarpeted hall, of planed boards;
opening out of it, a parlor, fifteen feet by fifteen--
in some instances five or ten feet larger; ingrain carpet;
mahogany center-table; lamp on it, with green-paper shade--
standing on a gridiron, so to speak, made of high-colored yarns,
by the young ladies of the house, and called a lamp-mat;
several books, piled and disposed, with cast-iron exactness,
according to an inherited and unchangeable plan; among them,
Tupper, much penciled; also, 'Friendship's Offering,'
and 'Affection's Wreath,' with their sappy inanities illustrated
in die-away