large/2093/ghost_stories_005_librivox_64kb_mp3/old_womans_tale_hawthorne_rkw_64kb_56
large/2093/ghost_stories_005_librivox_64kb_mp3/old_womans_tale_hawthorne_rkw_64kb
English
2093
Her personal memory included the better part of a hundred years, and she had strangely jumbled her own experience and observation with those of many old people who died in her young days; so that she might have been taken for a contemporary of Queen Elizabeth, or of John Rogers in the Primer. HER PERSONAL MEMORY INCLUDED THE BETTER PART OF A HUNDRED YEARS AND SHE HAD STRANGELY JUMBLED HER OWN EXPERIENCE AND OBSERVATION WITH THOSE OF MANY OLD PEOPLE WHO DIED IN HER YOUNG DAYS SO THAT SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN TAKEN FOR A CONTEMPORARY OF QUEEN ELIZABETH OR OF JOHN ROGERS IN THE PRIMMER
 Title: An Old Woman’s Tale Author: Nathaniel Hawthorne Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9251] First Posted: September 25, 2003 Last Updated: December 15, 2016 Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OLD WOMAN’S TALE *** Produced by David Widger THE DOLIVER ROMANCE AND OTHER PIECES TALES AND SKETCHES By Nathaniel Hawthorne AN OLD WOMAN’S TALE In the house where I was born, there used to be an old woman crouching all day long over the kitchen fire, with her elbows on her knees and her feet in the ashes. Once in a while she took a turn at the spit, and she never lacked a coarse gray stocking in her lap, the foot about half finished; it tapered away with her own waning life, and she knit the toe-stitch on the day of her death. She made it her serious business and sole amusement to tell me stories at any time from morning till night, in a mumbling, toothless voice, as I sat on a log of wood, grasping her check-apron in both my hands.  AN OLD WOMAN'S TAIL BY NAPANIEL HAWTHORN THIS IS A LIBERVOX RECORDING ALL LIBERVOX RECORDINGS ARE IN THE PUBLIC DOMAIN FOR MORE INFORMATION OR TO VOLUNTEER PLEASE VISIT LIEBERVOX DOT ORGAN AN OLD WOMAN'S TALE BY NAPANIEL HAWTHORN IN THE HOUSE WHERE I WAS BORN THERE USED TO BE AN OLD WOMAN CROUCHING ALL DAY LONG OVER THE KITCHEN FIRE WITH HER ELBOWS ON HER KNEES AND HER FEET IN THE ASHES ONCE IN A WHILE SHE TOOK A TURN AT THE SPIT AND SHE NEVER LACKED A COARSE GREY STOCKING IN HER LAP THE FOOT ABOUT HALF FINISHED IT TAPERED AWAY WITH HER OWN WANING LIFE AND SHE KNIT THE TOASTITCH ON THE DAY OF HER DEATH SHE MADE IT HER SERIOUS BUSINESS AND SOLE AMUSEMENT TO TELL ME STORIES AT ANY TIME FROM MORNING TILL NIGHT IN A MUMBLING TOOTHLESS VOICE AS I SAT ON A LOG OF WOOD GRASPING HER CHEEK APRON WITH BOTH MY HANDS
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