Wuthering Heights

and his pious ejaculation had no reference to my unexpected advent.

Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr. Heathcliff's dwelling.

'Wuthering' being a significant provincial adjective, descriptive

of the atmospheric tumult to which its station is exposed in stormy

weather. Pure, bracing ventilation they must have up there at all

times, indeed: one may guess the power of the north wind blowing

over the edge, by the excessive slant of a few stunted firs at the

end of the house; and by a range of gaunt thorns all stretching

their limbs one way, as if craving alms of the sun. Happily, the

architect had foresight to build it strong: the narrow windows are

deeply set in the wall, and the corners defended with large jutting

stones.

Before passing the threshold, I paused to admire a quantity of

grotesque carving lavished over the front, and especially about the

principal door; above which, among a wilderness of crumbling

griffins and shameless little boys, I detected the date '1500,' and

the name 'Hareton Earnshaw.' I would have made a few comments, and

requested a short history of the place from the surly owner; but

his attitude at the door appeared to demand my speedy entrance, or

complete departure, and I had no desire to aggravate his impatience

previous to inspecting the penetralium.

One stop brought us into the family sitting-room, without any

introductory lobby or passage: they call it here 'the house' pre-

eminently. It includes kitchen and parlour, generally; but I

believe at Wuthering Heights the kitchen is forced to retreat

altogether into another quarter: at least I distinguished a

chatter of tongues, and a clatter of culinary utensils, deep

within; and I observed no signs of roasting, boiling, or baking,

about the huge fireplace; nor any glitter of copper saucepans and

tin cullenders on the walls. One end, indeed, reflected splendidly

both light and heat from ranks of immense pewter dishes,

interspersed with silver jugs and tankards, towering row after row,

on a vast oak dresser, to the very roof. The latter had never been

under-drawn: its entire anatomy lay bare to an inquiring eye,

except where a frame of wood laden with oatcakes and clusters of

legs of beef, mutton, and ham, concealed it. Above the chimney

were sundry villainous old guns, and a couple of horse-pistols:

and, by way of ornament, three gaudily-painted canisters disposed

along its ledge. The floor was of smooth, white stone; the chairs,

high-backed, primitive structures, painted green: one or two heavy

black ones lurking in the shade. In an arch under the dresser