the shape of a piece of square-cut cloth, she set a huge kettle upon the
hearth and at the same time speared with a fork a cloth hanging upon the
meathooks, and lifted it down. It contained some beans which had been
laid away for future use, and a very small and stale piece of pig's
cheek, scored with a thousand slashes. When she had untied the string
which fastened the cloth, she poured some of the beans upon the table and
ordered me to shell them quickly and carefully. I obey her mandate and
with careful fingers separate the beans from the filthy pods which
contain them; but she, accusing my clumsiness, hastily snatched them and,
skillfully tearing off the pods with her teeth, spat them upon the
ground, where they looked like dead flies. I wondered, then, at the
ingenuity of poverty and its expedients for emergency. (So ardent a
follower of this virtue did the priestess seem that it was reflected in
everything around her. Her dwelling, in particular, was a very shrine of
poverty.)

No Indian ivory set in gold gleamed here,
No trodden marble glistened here; no earth
Mocked for its gifts; but Ceres' festive grove:
With willow wickerwork 'twas set around,
New cups of clay by revolutions shaped
Of lowly wheel. For honey soft, a bowl;
Platters of green bark wickerwork, a jar
Stained by the lifeblood of the God of Wine;
The walls around with chaff and spattered clay
Were covered. Flanging from protruding nails
Were slender stalks of the green rush; and then
Suspended from the smoky beam, the stores
Of this poor cottage. Service berries soft,
Entwined in fragrant wreaths hung down,