It was a horrid winter morning, the most bitter we'd had all year. I had searched all through the house for my bonnet, but it was no where to be found. Betsy had been sent to the market, I couldn't ask her. Darn. I ventured into the parlour. The fire had gone out and it was draughty, stale cigar smoke filled the air. Half-full brandy snifters rested on various tables around the room. Papa must have had a business meeting. I was going to be late. As I rushed out of the parlour, I noticed my bonnet sitting upon the book shelf. No doubt put there by Betsy in one of her many muddled moments. I smiled to myself. Now the book I had found sitting on my dressing table wasn't such a mystery. I loved her dearly, but honestly.
Rushing to the front door, I picked up my gloves and coat, stopping only long enough fix my hair underneath my bonnet.
Image showing b/w polka dot skirt
English: An A-line skirt, with top.
English: A woman name Jessica twirling her poodle ...I was terrible at styling it myself, Betsy usually did it. I get too impatient. Oh bother it, I'll just let it hang down. At least my hair had been in rags during the night. Jeffery called after me as I dashed towards the gate. I shook my head quickly at him and waved goodbye. A carriage would take too long to prepare, I was late as it was. He wished me luck.
It had obviously rained heavily the night before. Darn. The streets were wet with large muddy puddles everywhere. I tried to hold up my skirts as I walked, but kept losing grip. Darn long skirts, darn layered petticoats and darn the rain! Maybe I should have waited for a carriage. No matter, at least my coat would cover the mud-soaked hems of my skirt. I...
Too many details
It is obvious that the writer has interpolated her personal experiences. However here it is a weakness since it starts off with too many uninviting details. And the moment the essay kicks off and gets to be interesting it is abruptly cut.
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