diff options
Diffstat (limited to '78710-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/78710-h.htm | 15066 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 0 -> 627969 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_000.jpg | bin | 0 -> 208932 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_022.jpg | bin | 0 -> 66313 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_031.jpg | bin | 0 -> 43187 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_041.jpg | bin | 0 -> 23875 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_056.jpg | bin | 0 -> 245799 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_075.jpg | bin | 0 -> 40374 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_086.jpg | bin | 0 -> 33882 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_097.jpg | bin | 0 -> 50061 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_108.jpg | bin | 0 -> 26939 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_132.jpg | bin | 0 -> 27400 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_148.jpg | bin | 0 -> 75037 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_183.jpg | bin | 0 -> 29291 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_193.jpg | bin | 0 -> 15562 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_215.jpg | bin | 0 -> 64892 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_226.jpg | bin | 0 -> 14034 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_232.jpg | bin | 0 -> 216774 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_240.jpg | bin | 0 -> 30511 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_253.jpg | bin | 0 -> 63250 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_264.jpg | bin | 0 -> 224211 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_285.jpg | bin | 0 -> 35483 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 78710-h/images/i_295.jpg | bin | 0 -> 18152 bytes |
23 files changed, 15066 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/78710-h/78710-h.htm b/78710-h/78710-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..14d33c1 --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/78710-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15066 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta name="format-detection" content="telephone=no,date=no,address=no,email=no,url=no"> + <title> + In doors and out | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-family: serif; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +h2 { margin-top: 4em; } +h3 { margin-top: 2em; } + +p { + margin: 0; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.5em; +} + +.no-indent { text-indent: 0; } + +.mth { margin-top: .51em; } +.mt1 { margin-top: 1em; } +.mt2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.mt4 {margin-top: 4em;} + +.mb2 { margin-bottom: 2em; } +.mb4 { margin-bottom: 4em; } + +.pl1 { padding-left: 1em; } +.pl3 { padding-left: 3em; } + +.pr1 { padding-right: 1em; } +.pr3 { padding-right: 3em; } + +.fs85 { font-size: 85%; } +.fs110 { font-size: 110%; } +.fs150 { font-size: 150%; } +.fs200 { font-size: 200%; } + +.ls2 { letter-spacing: .2em; } + +.lhx { line-height: 1.4em; } + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%;} +hr.r15 {width: 15%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 42.5%; margin-right: 42.5%;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } +table.autotable td, +table.autotable th { padding: 0.25em; } + +.autotable a { text-decoration: none; } + +table.receipt { + border-collapse: collapse; + margin: .5em auto; +} + +.ads table { width: 100%; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} +.tdc {text-align: center;} +.vat { vertical-align: top; } +.vab { vertical-align: bottom; } + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} + +blockquote { margin: 1em 3em; } + +.bb {border-bottom: 2px solid;} + +.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} +.right {text-align: right;} +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} +.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} +.bold { font-weight: bold; } + + +figcaption {font-weight: bold;} +figcaption p {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: .2em; text-align: inherit;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + +.figcenter { + margin: 1em auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + + +/* Poetry */ +.poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + +.transnote h2 { margin-top: 1em; } + +.blackletter { font-family: Blackletter, Fraktur, Textur, + "Old English Text MT", "Lucida Blackletter", "Chomsky", + "Olde English Mt", "Olde English", "Old English", + "Engravers Old English BT", "Collins Old English", + "New Old English", "Noto Serif Display Black", "Luminari", + Gothic, serif; +} + +/* Poetry indents */ +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3.0em;} + +.ads blockquote p { + text-indent: -1.5em; + padding-left: 1.5em; +} +.ads ul { margin-left: 5em; } +.series { + font-size: 110%; + font-weight: bold; + margin: 1.5em auto .5em auto; + text-indent: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Drop Caps */ + +img.drop-cap +{ + float: left; + margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; +} + +p.drop-cap:first-letter +{ + color: transparent; + visibility: hidden; +} + +.x-ebookmaker-2 img.drop-cap +{ + display: none; +} + +.x-ebookmaker-2 p.drop-cap:first-letter +{ + color: inherit; + visibility: visible; + margin-left: 0; +} + +.x-ebookmaker-2 p.drop-cap { text-indent: 0; } + +.upper-case +{ + text-transform: uppercase; +} + +/* Drop Initial */ + +p.drop-initial:first-letter +{ + float: left; + margin: 0.15em 0.1em 0em 0em; + font-size: 300%; + line-height:0.85em; +} +.x-ebookmaker-2 p.drop-initial:first-letter +{ + float: none; + margin: 0; + font-size: 100%; + text-indent: 0; +} +.x-ebookmaker-2 p.drop-initial { text-indent: 0; } + +.d00 { text-indent: 0; } +.d03 { text-indent: -0.3em; } +.d05 { text-indent: -0.5em; } +.d10 { text-indent: -1em; } +.d13 { text-indent: -1.3em; } +.d15 { text-indent: -1.5em; } + + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp49 {width: 49%;} +.illowp52 {width: 52%;} +.illowp100 {width: 100%;} +.illowp85 {width: 85%;} +.illowp63 {width: 63%;} +.illowp87 {width: 87%;} +.illowp84 {width: 84%;} + +.w33 { width: 33%; } +.w40 { width: 40%; } +.w50 { width: 50%; } +.w60 { width: 60%; } +.w67 { width: 67%; } + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78710 ***</div> + + +<figure class="figcenter illowp49" id="cover" style="max-width: 105.6875em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Book Cover" data-role="presentation"> +</figure> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span></p> +</div> + +<h1> + IN DOORS AND OUT; +</h1> + + +<p class="center allsmcap bold">OR,</p> + +<p class="center mt1 fs150 bold">VIEWS FROM THE CHIMNEY CORNER.</p> + + +<p class="center mt2 allsmcap">BY</p> + +<p class="center ls2 mt1 fs110">OLIVER OPTIC.</p> + +<div class='mt2 mb2'> +<hr class='r15'> +</div> + + +<p class="center">BOSTON:<br> +LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.</p> + +<p class="center fs85 mth">NEW YORK:<br> +CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span></p> +</div> + +<p class='center blackletter mt4 mb4 fs110 lhx'> +Copyright,<br> +William T. Adams,<br> +A. D. 1875. +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class='center mt4 mb4'> + TO<br> + <br> + MY OLD FRIEND<br> + <br> + <i>THE HON. CHARLES KIMBALL,</i><br> + <span class='allsmcap'>SHERIFF OF MIDDLESEX</span>,<br> + <br> + <span class='blackletter'>This Volume</span><br> + <br> + IS RESPECTFULLY RE-DEDICATED. +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span></p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFACE"> + PREFACE. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class='drop-initial d00'>Some of the sketches contained in this volume have appeared in +the Boston True Flag, the American Union, and, one of them—“The +New Minister”—in Gleason’s Pictorial; the remainder +have not been published before.</p> + +<p>A great variety of sketches has been introduced, nearly all of +them practical in their application, and illustrative of the social +and domestic duties of life. No attempt at “fine writing” has +been made in them; they are simply <i>home</i> thrusts at the follies of +the parlor and the kitchen; of the shop and the counting-room; +in short, of life “in doors and out.”</p> + +<p>The author is encouraged to collect these simple stories in a volume, +by the advice of partial friends, and by a desire to redeem +them of a kind of literary orphanage to which the unscrupulousness +of some reckless man of paste and scissors has reduced them. +Many of them are now travelling over the country, like a dog without +a collar; but unlike that highly respectable puppy which +isn’t any body’s dog, they have an anxious friend at home, who +takes this method of calling them back to the fold again.</p> + +<p class="right pr1"> + W. T. A. +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dorchester</span>, Sept. 12, 1854.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFACE_TO_THE_NEW_EDITION"> + PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>This volume, originally issued twenty-one years ago, is reprinted +and republished at the request of many partial friends. One +sketch, which was simply a love story, has been omitted in this +edition, and new illustrations have been made for it; but the contents +of the book are otherwise the same as in the original volume. +As most of the sketches were written a quarter of a century ago, +rents, the salaries of clerks and others, and the prices of various +kinds of goods do not agree with the standards of the present +day. The author hopes the book will be as kindly received to-day +as it was twenty-one years ago.</p> + +<p class="right pr1"> + WILLIAM T. ADAMS. +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dorchester, October 26, 1875.</span></p> + +<blockquote> +<p class='fs85'>“Mr. Wm. T. Adams, who seems by the dedication to be the +<i>deus ex machina</i>, has done himself credit. *** It contains +twenty or thirty very sprightly and pointed stories, each sharply +hitting some social absurdity or social vice. The conversations are +remarkably <i>conversational</i>; just such questions, answers, and +remarks as real people make. This gives a pleasant freshness to +the narratives and dialogues, although not calculated to render the +book a model of classical English style.”—<i>Putnam’s Monthly, +Feb. 1855.</i></p> +</blockquote> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS"> + CONTENTS. + </h2> +</div> + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<th class="tdl"> +</th> +<th class="tdr"> +<span class='allsmcap'>PAGE.</span> +</th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#GETTING_AN_INDORSER"><span class="smcap">Getting an Indorser</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_11'>11</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#GOOD_FOR_NOTHINGS"><span class="smcap">Good for Nothings</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_22'>22</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#THE_TWO_DAGUERREOTYPES"><span class="smcap">Two Daguerreotypes</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_31'>31</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#SIX_HUNDRED_A_YEAR"><span class="smcap">Six Hundred a Year</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_41'>41</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#THE_NEW_MINISTER"><span class="smcap">The New Minister</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_50'>50</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#OUT_NIGHTS"><span class="smcap">Out Nights</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_64'>64</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#BRING_FLOWERS"><span class="smcap">Bring Flowers</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_75'>75</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#THE_DOMESTIC_ELEMENT"><span class="smcap">The Domestic Element</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_86'>86</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#BANG_UP"><span class="smcap">Bang Up</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_97'>97</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#THE_NEW_CLOAK"><span class="smcap">The New Cloak</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_108'>108</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#EVERY_THING_COMFORTABLE"><span class="smcap">Every Thing Comfortable</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_119'>119</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#FAMILY_JARS"><span class="smcap">Family Jars</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_132'>132</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#LIFE_INSURANCE"><span class="smcap">Life Insurance</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_148'>148</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#LAST_DAY_OF_GRACE"><span class="smcap">Last Day of Grace</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_158'>158</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#MONTAGUE_AND_LADY"><span class="smcap">Montague and Lady</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_169'>169</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#TAKING_THE_NEWSPAPERS"><span class="smcap">Taking the Newspapers</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_183'>183</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#CIGARS_FOR_TWO"><span class="smcap">Cigars for Two</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_193'>193</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span></p> +<a href="#OUT_OF_BUSINESS"><span class="smcap">Out of Business</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_203'>203</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#SIX_MONTHS_AFTER_DATE"><span class="smcap">Six Months after Date</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_215'>215</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#A_WORLD_OF_TROUBLES"><span class="smcap">World of Trouble</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_226'>226</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#SEND_FOR_THE_DOCTOR"><span class="smcap">Send for the Doctor</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_240'>240</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#FOUR_KINDS_OF_CAKE"><span class="smcap">Four Kinds of Cake</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_253'>253</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#EXTREMES_MEET"><span class="smcap">Extremes Meet</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_263'>263</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#THE_MERCANTILE_ANGEL"><span class="smcap">The Mercantile Angel</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_274'>274</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#CONFESSIONS_OF_A_CONCEITED_MAN"><span class="smcap">Confessions of a Conceited Man</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_285'>285</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#THE_BACHELOR_BEAU"><span class="smcap">The Bachelor Beau</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_295'>295</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#THE_GRAND_RECEPTION_BALL"><span class="smcap">The Grand Reception Ball</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_306'>306</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#MARRYING_A_BEGGAR"><span class="smcap">Marrying a Beggar</span></a>, +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href='#Page_321'>321</a> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span></p> + + + <p class='center fs200 bold mt4'> + IN DOORS AND OUT. + </p> +</div> + +<hr class='r5'> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="GETTING_AN_INDORSER"> + GETTING AN INDORSER. + </h2> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d00'><span class='upper-case'>My</span> friend, Frank Howard, was a dry goods +dealer on Washington Street. When I made +his acquaintance, he was one of the most active and +successful salesmen in the trade, and being a prudent +man, had saved a small sum of money, with which +and the credit he might be able to obtain, he proposed +to commence business on his own account.</p> + +<p>Among his acquaintances he had the good fortune +to include a wealthy merchant, whose judgment had +led him to form a lofty estimate of the business capacity +of my friend.</p> + +<p>To him the young aspirant for mercantile honors +stated his case, and the conference ended in a voluntary +proposition on the part of the merchant to supply +the goods necessary to stock his store, taking his +notes, the first of which would fall due in one year, in +payment.</p> + +<p>The arrangement was completed, and in a few days +Frank found himself installed in a convenient store, +on the best part of the street, ready to strike for his +fortune.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span></p> + +<p>The notes had not been signed, and one evening, on +some business connected with them, Frank called, by +appointment, at the princely mansion of his worthy +benefactor. He was ushered into the sitting room, +where the merchant was reading the evening paper. +By his side sat a beautiful young lady, to whom his +patron politely introduced him.</p> + +<p>My friend belonged to that anomalous class of beings +styled “handsome men;” at least the ladies all +said he was handsome, though for the life of me I +never could tell wherein his beauty consisted. But +as I have no particular fancy for masculine beauty, +it may have escaped my notice, or the natural +selfishness of mankind may have prejudiced my judgment.</p> + +<p>My friend was acknowledged by all the ladies to +be a remarkably handsome man; and, probably, this +was the secret of his immense success as a salesman. +Whether he reckoned his beauty as one of the +items of his stock in trade, when he went into business, +I am unable to say; but I have not the least +doubt he based his hopes of success, to a great extent, +upon the influence of his prepossessing personal appearance.</p> + +<p>Frank fixed his eyes on the young lady, as the +merchant, who had, when he entered, half read a +money article in his paper, turned to finish it. Miss +Allen—such was the name by which she had been +presented to him—was busily engaged in crocheting +a little silk purse, and as she bent over the work, +Frank was perfectly satisfied that he had never seen +so pretty a face in his life.</p> + +<p>And then the neatest, most graceful little foot in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>the world, protruded from beneath a light silk dress—a +foot which completely turned Frank’s head, so that +he forgot all about the notes and the merchant.</p> + +<p>Without the least regard to etiquette, politeness, +good breeding, and all that sort of thing, he stared +mercilessly at her, and never, for even the fraction of a +moment, removed his gaze, not even allowing himself +the luxury of winking, lest the time so employed +should be lost.</p> + +<p>Frank was perfectly sure that he had never before +felt exactly as he did at that halcyon moment. It +seemed as though all the divinities of paradise were +concentrated in the fair form before him, as though +he had been transplanted to an Elysium of love.</p> + +<p>And the maiden was not altogether unmoved. The +embryo merchant several times detected her in the act +of stealing a glance at him through the long, fringing +eyelashes that adorned her peerless brow. He plainly +saw her blush; saw her bosom heave with a flutter as +she caught his earnest gaze.</p> + +<p>Frank Howard was a handsome man; and somehow +or other, men and women who are favored in this respect +always contrive to find it out. Frank knew that +he was a handsome man, and never in his life did he +more devoutly thank his stars, which had given him +personal beauty, than at this particular moment.</p> + +<p>The lady had already found out that he was handsome, +and if the stupid fellow had not stared so furiously +at her, she would no doubt have done the same +thing he was doing.</p> + +<p>Mr. Allen finished the money article, and laid down +the paper. Frank has owned to me that he wished +it had been twice, or even four times as long.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span></p> + +<p>The details of the business were discussed, and the +papers drawn. While it was in progress, Frank more +than once detected the beautiful fairy in the act of +looking at him; several times detected her in the very +act of blushing, when their eyes met.</p> + +<p>The business was finished at last, much to the regret +of my handsome friend, who, when he got into +the street, went straightway into a fit of abstraction, +and had walked half way across Charlestown bridge, +on his way home, before he happened to think that he +lived at the South End.</p> + +<p>It was all up with poor Frank; he had fallen in love—was +stark, staring mad in love—with whom he +knew not, for it was well known that Mr. Allen had +no daughter. She was a relative, however, for she +bore his name.</p> + +<p>But if Frank was in love, there was some consolation +in the fact, that the fair creature who had stolen +his heart was in the same predicament.</p> + +<p>The next day, she came a shopping at his store, +and the next, and the next; indeed, almost every day. +No conversation had passed between them; and, +though he had been introduced on the evening of his +visit, he had been too much overwhelmed to use words.</p> + +<p>My friend, however, did not lack that necessary attribute +of a successful wooer, somewhat vulgarly +termed “spunk.” He had no further business with the +merchant; but then his case was a desperate one, and +he made an errand.</p> + +<p>Miss Allen blushed as he entered, but she was social +and agreeable to the last degree, so much so that +Frank staid till the bells rung for nine o’clock before +he knew it. The ice was broken, and my friend was +in for it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span></p> + +<p>The lady was a niece of the merchant, twenty-one +years of age, and an heiress. In the course of a few +months, Frank’s energy won the victory, and it was +understood that they were engaged.</p> + +<p>The merchant did not like it. Being somewhat exclusive +in his ideas of social intercourse, the prospective +marriage of his wealthy niece to a poor retailer +was repugnant to the last degree, and he resolved to +thwart the purpose of the loving couple.</p> + +<p>At first, he appealed to the lady; but she only +laughed at him; told him bluntly that she loved Mr. +Howard, and <i>would</i> have him. Then he reasoned with +Frank, on his ingratitude to him, his benefactor. The +young man was touched, and promised to consider it.</p> + +<p>He did consider it, and his loving <i>inamorata</i> helped +him consider it. After a hasty deliberation, it was +unanimously agreed to lay the whole matter “on the +table.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Allen was informed of the decision, and as old +fogies always do when they cannot do any thing else, +bit his lip and swallowed his words, fully resolved to +do something dreadful, whenever an opportunity occurred.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>A year after my friend went into business, as I +passed his store one morning, I was not a little surprised +to find it closed. Before the window was that +ominous white cloth, denoting that the occupant had +failed.</p> + +<p>I entered the store. Frank stood at his desk, glancing +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span>with a most woe-begone aspect at the pages of +his ledger.</p> + +<p>“How’s this, Frank?” I asked; and I never was +more surprised in my life.</p> + +<p>“Bu’st up! don’t you see?” replied he, rather petulantly.</p> + +<p>“But what does it mean?”</p> + +<p>“Mean! Why, that I had a note of a thousand +dollars, due yesterday, which I could not pay; and +this morning early, my amiable friend, Mr. Allen, put +in a keeper—that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“How does it happen? I thought you were doing +a rushing business.”</p> + +<p>“So I was. I had the money to pay this note six +weeks ago, and let Smith have it at two per cent. a +month,” replied he, with a ghastly smile.</p> + +<p>“And Smith has failed?”</p> + +<p>“Not exactly. He has stopped; but every body +says he is good, if he has time to turn himself.”</p> + +<p>“And you must make a fail of it in the mean time?”</p> + +<p>“If I could only stave off Mr. Allen a couple of +months, I could get out of the scrape with flying colors.”</p> + +<p>“Won’t he wait?”</p> + +<p>Frank shook his head; he had mortally offended the +proud merchant, and there was no prospect that he +would be lenient in the slightest degree.</p> + +<p>“Can’t you raise the money?”</p> + +<p>“No; times haven’t been so hard for four years. +Every body is failing, and the money men won’t trust +their own fathers.”</p> + +<p>At this moment Mr. Allen entered the store. He +looked stern and severe, like one who has the power +in his own hands, and is disposed to use it. I seated +myself near the desk, as he approached.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span></p> + +<p>The merchant politely saluted the unfortunate dealer, +smiling as blandly as though nothing had happened; +as though he had no niece, and Frank were a Stoic.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Howard, this is unfortunate; but in the midst +of so much commercial disaster, you perceive that it +was my only course,” said the merchant, soothingly.</p> + +<p>“I suppose it was; but you know the cause of my +inability to pay the note,” returned Frank, with a +doleful expression.</p> + +<p>“Ah, young man, you ought not to have lent the +money to Smith; if you had asked my advice, I could +have told you better.”</p> + +<p>“Smith was always supposed to be good.”</p> + +<p>The merchant shook his head.</p> + +<p>“But, Mr. Allen, give me a short time, and I can +pay the note. Smith assures me he shall recover himself.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Howard, I certainly wish you well; I have +done all I could to give you a fair start.”</p> + +<p>“So you have, sir, and I am very grateful to you.”</p> + +<p>“Are you?” and the merchant fixed a keen glance +upon the young man.</p> + +<p>“I assure you that I am.”</p> + +<p>“How have you manifested it?” continued the +merchant, sternly. “But no matter; we meet now as +business men.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what shall be done? You have stopped me; +I can do no more.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t wish to be hard. I would wait if prudence +would justify it,” said Mr. Allen, who was keenly +sensitive in regard to his reputation for generosity +and fairness.</p> + +<p>In fact, he was a man of good feelings, and only +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span>that he meant to punish Frank for falling in love with +his wealthy niece, would not have disturbed him.</p> + +<p>“You will be just as secure two months hence as +now,” pleaded Frank.</p> + +<p>“I have not that confidence in you, Mr. Howard,—I +say it frankly,—which I had once. You have +lost a thousand dollars. I doubt if your stock, under +the hammer, would pay my notes.”</p> + +<p>Frank looked savage, for though he was crestfallen, +he was Frank Howard yet, and felt keenly the unjust +imputation of the merchant.</p> + +<p>“I wish to be fair, and even indulgent,” continued +Mr. Allen, before Frank had time to utter the ungracious +sentiment that rose to his lips. “Here is the +note; give me one good indorser, and I will wait two +months.”</p> + +<p>Frank looked up, and smiled in contempt at the +miserable subterfuge of the merchant, who meant to +crush him, and still preserve an appearance of fairness. +He knew it would be impossible for the young man, +with his stock encumbered, to procure the security.</p> + +<p>“Will you take Smith?” asked Frank, hurriedly.</p> + +<p>“Of course not,” replied Mr. Allen, with a bland +smile.</p> + +<p>“I will see what can be done; but I think the case +is hopeless.”</p> + +<p>The merchant withdrew, assured in his own mind +that his revenge was sure, and his reputation safe, at +the same time.</p> + +<p>Frank and myself canvassed the matter, but we +could think of no person whose milk of human kindness +was sufficiently abundant to prompt him to do +such an insane act. While we were debating the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>matter, Frank was struck up by the entrance of Miss +Allen.</p> + +<p>“How gloomy you look here to-day, Frank,” said +she, laughing, and showing in the act the prettiest +row of pearly teeth I ever saw.</p> + +<p>“We are gloomy, indeed,” replied Frank, mustering +a sickly smile. “But you know the reason?”</p> + +<p>“Why, what reason?” asked she, her merry expression +relapsing into a serious one.</p> + +<p>“You see that man?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“He is a keeper!” replied Frank, with tragic effect.</p> + +<p>“A keeper! of what? Are you insane?” responded +the lady, playfully; for it must be confessed she was +not acquainted with the technicalities of business.</p> + +<p>Frank laughed, and explained the disaster which had +overtaken him.</p> + +<p>“Poh!” exclaimed she, with an appearance of relief; +and I really believe, if the keeper and myself +had not been in the way, she would have thrown her +arms around his neck, and kissed away his mortification.</p> + +<p>I had before been introduced to the lady, and at +this moment advanced to join in the conversation.</p> + +<p>“And my uncle is the wretch?” continued she, +merrily. “But what can you do? How can you get +out of it?”</p> + +<p>Frank explained the proposition to procure an indorser +for the note. The light-hearted maiden appeared +to have but little sympathy for the misfortunes of her +lover, and asked all sorts of questions about indorsers, +notes, and business forms.</p> + +<p>“Where is the note you are to have indorsed?” +asked she.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span></p> + +<p>“Mr. Allen has it.”</p> + +<p>“How can you have it indorsed, then?”</p> + +<p>“I can write another,” replied Frank, smiling at the +innocence of his betrothed.</p> + +<p>“Then write one,” said she, promptly.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp52" id="i_000" style="max-width: 64.625em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_000.jpg" alt="" data-role="presentation"> + <figcaption> + <span class="smcap">Getting an Endorser.</span> Page 20. + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Frank looked at her a moment, to ascertain what +mischief was lurking in her mind. She smiled, apparently +without the power to prevent it.</p> + +<p>The lover, impelled by curiosity as much as any +other motive, wrote the note and signed it.</p> + +<p>“Now how do you indorse it?” asked she.</p> + +<p>“By writing the name across the back.”</p> + +<p>The lady approached the desk, and turning the note, +wrote, with two dashes of the pen, “Isabel Allen,” +across it.</p> + +<p>“It is indorsed,” said she, with a smile, which told +Frank all she meant.</p> + +<p>“But, Isabel——”</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Frank,” interrupted she, and hastened +out of the store.</p> + +<p>“Bravo, Frank!” exclaimed I.</p> + +<p>He smiled doubtfully. His pride was a little touched.</p> + +<p>“Would you use it?” said he, after a long pause.</p> + +<p>“Use it? to be sure!” and he did use it.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon Mr. Allen called, satisfied in his +own mind that he should witness the complete humiliation +of the young man, who had had the audacity to fall +in love with an heiress. Knowing at what hour he +would call, I was careful to be present.</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Howard, how have you succeeded? I +have really been in hopes you will be able to secure +the paper,” said the merchant; and I could plainly +discern the malicious chuckle on his face as he spoke.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span></p> + +<p>“I <i>have</i> succeeded, Mr. Allen; and I am infinitely +obliged to you for your good will.”</p> + +<p>The merchant was completely staggered at the reply. +It was wholly unexpected, and wholly unwelcome also.</p> + +<p>“I trust you have procured a good one,” said he, +painfully.</p> + +<p>“A wealthy one, but a name unknown on State +Street.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t take it, then,” answered the merchant, +promptly, and with renewed hope.</p> + +<p>“But a name well known to you!” and Frank +handed him the note.</p> + +<p>Mr. Allen started back in surprise and anger, as he +read the name of the fair indorser.</p> + +<p>“Very well, sir; when a man of any delicacy can +resort to such a trick as this, I have nothing more to +do with him.” And the crestfallen merchant, after +throwing the old note on the counter, hastened indignantly +from the store.</p> + +<p>The keeper was withdrawn, and Frank heard no +more from Mr. Allen. A week after, Smith paid the +money, and Frank took up his note.</p> + +<p>Before another of the notes came due, Isabel Allen +had become Mrs. Frank Howard. The stock and stand +were sold out, the debts paid, and my handsome friend +is as happy as a beautiful wife, with a heart full of +love, can make him.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="GOOD_FOR_NOTHINGS"> + “GOOD FOR NOTHINGS.” + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<img class="drop-cap w67" src="images/i_022.jpg" alt="Y" style="max-width: 32em;"> + +<p class='drop-cap d10'><span class='upper-case'>“Your</span> girl is a +prize, Mrs. Bagley,” +said Mrs. +Veazie, a lady +whose physiognomy +was rather +indicative of +a sour temper.</p> + +<p>“Bridget is +a good girl,” +responded the +lady addressed; +“and she has +been with me +over a year +now.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed! +Over a year! Well, I am astonished! For my part, +if I <i>get</i> a good girl, I can’t keep her.”</p> + +<p>“I have been very fortunate in that respect.”</p> + +<p>“You have indeed. O dear! it is really terrible +to think how much one is dependent upon these Irish +servant girls. They are such lazy, impudent, good-for-nothing +creatures, that it is enough to weary out +one’s life.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span></p> + +<p>“Some of them are. If I had been so unfortunate +as to get such a one as you describe, I should instantly +discharge her. But very few are of that +description.”</p> + +<p>“Very few! Let me tell you that your girl is one +in a thousand, Mrs. Bagley. Where you find one who +is honest, faithful, and respectful, you will find nine +hundred and ninety-nine who are just the reverse.”</p> + +<p>“I can hardly believe it,” replied the good-natured +Mrs. Bagley, with a smile of incredulity upon her +pleasant features.</p> + +<p>“It is as true as the gospel! Why, I have had no +less than ten different girls within a year.”</p> + +<p>“Ten! Is it possible?”</p> + +<p>“And my family is no larger and the work is no +harder than yours. Isn’t it singular?”</p> + +<p>Politeness compelled Mrs. Bagley to answer that it +was singular; but, at the same time, she knew that +it was not so very singular, after all. If she had felt +at liberty to do so, she could have given her friend a +solution of the mystery.</p> + +<p>“And the girl I have now I shall be compelled to +discharge. She is discontented, impudent, and overbearing.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry for you.”</p> + +<p>“She is a capital girl in every other respect, and +I am sorry to part with her. She is a good cook, +and—what you don’t find in many girls—understands +pastry, cake, and puddings.”</p> + +<p>“Too bad to lose her, isn’t it?” said Mrs. Bagley, +with a greater appearance of sympathy in her +speech than found a place in her heart.</p> + +<p>“It is; but one cannot put up with impudence, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span>you know. I would send off the best girl in the +world, before I would submit to it.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly; impudence cannot be tolerated. Can’t +you teach her better?”</p> + +<p>“No; she won’t hear to any thing. It was only +the other day, when I saw her washing the potatoes +in the wash-hands basin, that I merely called her a +nasty, good-for-nothing hussy; and, don’t you think, +the impudent jade told me to mind my own business, +and not to be sticking my nose into her affairs! Did +any one ever hear the like?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bagley only smiled. If she had lived in a +less civilized era, perhaps she would have been blunt +enough to say that the fault was partly with the mistress, +and not wholly with the servant.</p> + +<p>“And then she is so ugly,” continued Mrs. Veazie, +“that I dare not trust my children with her.”</p> + +<p>“I leave the baby with Bridget for half a day +sometimes, and feel perfectly safe.”</p> + +<p>“My girl don’t like children; I know she hates +them. Why, only yesterday I told her she might leave +the washing for an hour or so, and take Charley out in +the little wagon; and, don’t you think, she had the +impudence to tell me that, if I wanted Charley taken +out, I might take him out myself! I never was so +provoked in my life.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bagley’s good nature was all exhausted; and, +at the risk of being deemed uncivil, she had the +hardihood to say she never took Bridget away from +her washing, unless in a case of absolute necessity.</p> + +<p>“Wasn’t this a case of absolute necessity?” asked +Mrs. Veazie, with a rather uncompromising look upon +her sharp features.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span></p> + +<p>Poor Mrs. Bagley! She was in for it, and must +needs defend the policy at which she had incautiously +hinted.</p> + +<p>“I should say not,” replied she, not a little fearful +that she was about to “stir up strife.”</p> + +<p>“What would you do? Charley ought to have the +fresh air every day.”</p> + +<p>“I should have taken him out myself; for it is +very annoying for a girl to be called away from the +wash tub. She has to change her dress, which is a +great deal of trouble, and leave her clothes in the +water or on the fire.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, girls are desperate ’fraid of a little trouble.”</p> + +<p>“If they feel any pride about their work, they +like to have it done up in good season, you know.”</p> + +<p>“And she insists upon being absent every fourth +Sunday.”</p> + +<p>“I let Bridget go every third Sunday.”</p> + +<p>“You do?”</p> + +<p>“I think it very reasonable.”</p> + +<p>“Who gets your dinner Sundays?”</p> + +<p>“What little we get I attend to myself. But we +always have baked beans Sunday, so that I don’t have +to stay at home from meeting.”</p> + +<p>“And you wash the dishes yourself!” exclaimed +Mrs. Veazie, in utter astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Certainly. The fact is, these Irish girls are human +beings, after all, and need a little recreation as +well as the rest of us.”</p> + +<p>“But they take advantage.”</p> + +<p>“If you give them no advantages, they will take +them. I have found out that, the better you use <i>good</i> +girls, the more faithfully they will serve you. I make +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>it a point to treat my girl well; and, having secured +her good will, I feel a reasonable assurance that she +will do the best she can for me.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to say that <i>I</i> don’t treat my girl +well?” said Mrs. Veazie, her features coloring under +the insinuation she believed was aimed at her.</p> + +<p>“Certainly not. My remark was intended to be +very general.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Veazie went home; and, though she was a +little angry with her neighbor, she “set to thinking” +upon what she had heard.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_1"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Mrs. Bagley’s girl, Bridget, had a beau, and, in +the course of events, was married. Her mistress, +though exceedingly sorry to part with her, could of +course make no objections to her working out her woman’s +destiny. She was a good-hearted person, and +did all she could to see the faithful girl, who had been almost +a mother to her children, comfortably situated in +her new relation.</p> + +<p>Her first attempt to procure another good girl proved +to be unsuccessful; for the new servant was, beyond +the hope of remedy, slovenly and dirty. She +was compelled to discharge her.</p> + +<p>About this time Mrs. Veazie’s girl was discharged. +The lady, profiting by the lesson she had received of +her neighbor, had for a few months treated Margaret +with kindness and consideration. The change was +appreciated by the girl. She was ignorant and headstrong; +but neither so ignorant nor headstrong as not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span>to be able to understand the meaning of kind words +and considerate actions.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Veazie was astonished at the change in the +temper of the girl; and, for a time, she persevered +in maintaining the new order of things. But it is +useless for any one to attempt to be gentle and kind +in their speech and action, when there is neither gentleness +nor kindness in the heart. A “change of +heart,” in the language of the Scriptures, is as +necessary to make an ill-tempered person amiable +towards others, as it is in the working out of the +more technical “profession” of religion. A “profession” +of good nature is the first step towards +piety.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Veazie relapsed, Margaret relapsed, and +there was strife again. No sooner did the servant +observe the unreasonableness of the mistress, than she +was in open rebellion again, as saucy as ever.</p> + +<p>“I am determined to send her off, Mrs. Bagley,” +said she, as she was seated with her neighbor one +afternoon.</p> + +<p>“Send her off! Why, I thought she was doing +nicely now.”</p> + +<p>“So she was; but this morning a couple of tons +of coal came, and, as I had no one to get it in, I told her +she might do it. I am sure I spoke very pleasantly +to her,” said Mrs. Veazie, with an abundance of +self-complacency.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bagley held up both hands in astonishment.</p> + +<p>“What did she say?”</p> + +<p>“She told me very coolly that she had rather not +do it. But I was angry then; I thought it was about +time to be angry, too, when a girl answered me in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span>that way; so I told her she was a lazy, good-for-nothing +minx.”</p> + +<p>“Did you?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed I did.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what did she say then?”</p> + +<p>“‘The same to yourself, ma’am,’ says she. She +has not been saucy before for a good while.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t it occur to you that your request was +slightly unreasonable?”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure it didn’t. Why, these girls are used to +working in the fields in Ireland, digging turf and +pounding stones. I don’t see why they should be so +stuck up, when they come to America.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I suppose, when they come to a country +where even the rights of the poor are respected, they +think better of themselves—very naturally too, I +think. But, Mrs. Veazie, if you are going to discharge +Margaret, I should like to take her.”</p> + +<p>“You?”</p> + +<p>“If you have no objection.”</p> + +<p>“Of course not; but she never will suit you, I +know.”</p> + +<p>And Margaret went to live with Mrs. Bagley. She +was an able, capable, and industrious girl, and her +mistress immediately took a great liking to her. Margaret +had her faults, the most prominent of which +was a quick temper, that often prompted her to give a +saucy or a spiteful answer before she was aware.</p> + +<p>She had not been a week with Mrs. Bagley, before, +without a reasonable provocation, she gave her mistress +a short and crusty answer. No notice was taken +of it, though the point was insisted upon and carried. +A few days after, when she got a little perplexed, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>she was saucy; but Mrs. Bagley was as firm as she +was even in her temper, and calmly rebuked the uncivil +words. Margaret was abashed by the gentleness +and decision of the rebuke, and readily understood +with what manner of person she had to deal. She +was conquered, and made as good a girl as the most +obdurate of servant hunters could possibly desire.</p> + +<p>In the course of the year Bridget’s husband was +killed on the railroad, and the poor girl found herself +again compelled to go out to service. Mrs. Bagley +was well suited with Margaret, and did not feel at +liberty to discharge her, especially as both parties +were satisfied.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Veazie had tried half a dozen girls since +Margaret had left her, and, as usual, had been unable +to retain them. It was with a thrill of satisfaction +she heard that Bridget, “the prize of a girl,” wanted +a place again, and she lost not a moment in making +an engagement with her.</p> + +<p>About a week after this important event, Mrs. +Veazie came in hot haste over to Mrs. Bagley’s.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think,” exclaimed she, out of breath, +“that Bridget has given me notice of her intention to +leave.”</p> + +<p>“To leave?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I don’t believe she meant to stay when +she came.”</p> + +<p>“I think she did. Bridget wouldn’t do a mean action, +if she is an Irish girl.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know about that.”</p> + +<p>“But how did it happen?”</p> + +<p>“Why, she was as saucy as ever Margaret was in +the world.”</p> + +<p>“Bridget? Impossible!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span></p> + +<p>“I asked her as politely as though she had been a +lady, if she wouldn’t be so kind as to black Mr. +Veazie’s boots.”</p> + +<p>“And she refused?”</p> + +<p>“No; she did it. She said she would do it this +time, but she had rather not have it as part of her +work.”</p> + +<p>“You couldn’t blame her, could you?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I could; and I told her she was a +lazy, good-for-nothing vixen, and that she’d have to +do it every day, if she staid with me. Why, Irish +girls at home have to black their masters’ boots.”</p> + +<p>“But it is not the custom here.”</p> + +<p>“It ought to be; and I told her, up and down, +that she was not what she used to be when she lived +with you. Upon that she told me she would leave. +Did you ever see such luck as I have?” and +Mrs. Veazie puffed with excitement. She really believed +she was the most unfortunate woman in the +world.</p> + +<p>“To be plain with you, Mrs. Veazie, I don’t think +Bridget was in the least to blame.”</p> + +<p>“Not to blame?”</p> + +<p>“No. When you set your girls to getting in coal +and cleaning boots, you must expect them to be rebellious, +especially when you follow it up with such +hard words.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Veazie went out, and slammed the door after +her. She has never crossed the threshold of her friend’s +door since; but it was a small loss.</p> + +<p>The moral of our sketch is sufficiently apparent. +When we hear ladies complaining that they can’t +keep a servant, we are a little disposed to doubt +whether the fault is not in part upon their side.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span></p> + + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_031" style="max-width: 51.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_031.jpg" alt="Portraits of two men wearing hats" data-role="presentation"> +</figure> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_TWO_DAGUERREOTYPES"> + THE TWO DAGUERREOTYPES. + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>A TEMPERANCE TALE.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d00'><span class='upper-case'>Jim Scroggins</span>, though in the main an honest, +peaceable, quiet, harmless, fellow, had a beastly +habit of getting drunk whenever a fit opportunity +presented itself; and, unfortunately, because “where +there is a will there is a way,” the opportunities were +both fit and frequent.</p> + +<p>Jim owned a little farm in the country, which, by +his own industry and economy, he had almost paid +for. Mrs. Scroggins was a “real worker,” and, no +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>doubt, did her full part in buying the homestead. +She was endowed with a great deal of energy and +good judgment, and people were so malicious as to +say that she was the smartest man of the twain. Be +this as it may, Mrs. Scroggins was an industrious +woman, and took a great deal of pride in the little +place, which had been bought by their united industry +and economy, and the thought of having it wrested +from them by a cold-hearted creditor, was in the highest +degree disagreeable; but to such a calamity her husband’s +infirmity, as the good minister of the village +called it, seemed to point.</p> + +<p>The habit grew upon him, as it almost always does +upon those who once get into the way of imbibing too +freely. The miseries of the drunkard’s wife had been +too often presented to the good woman’s understanding, +to be regarded as simply creations of the imagination, +and she looked forward with alarm to the prospect +of enduring them and losing the little place.</p> + +<p>But what could be done? She had exhausted all +her eloquence upon the infatuated man, without producing +any thing more than a temporary effect. She +pointed out to him, kindly, the inevitable consequences +of his indulgence, and Jim promised to amend; but—alas, +for the vanity of human expectations!—he +got tipsy the very next day.</p> + +<p>Then she appealed to his love of money—to his +sense of satisfaction in being the owner of a cottage +and ten acres of land. She assured him that he would +certainly lose it all, and warming up with the importance +of the subject, declared that she would not slave +herself any longer to buy the place, and then have +it taken from them to pay a rum bill.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span></p> + +<p>Jim listened patiently and without speaking a word +to the indignant dame’s eloquence, and, as usual, +promised to do better; but, also, as usual, he came +into the house the next day tight as a fiddlestring.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Scroggins was in despair; “what to do she +didn’t know,” as she expressed it to Parson Allwise, +who was a sincere sympathizer with her in her distress. +She had entreated, she had scolded, she had +threatened, and all to no purpose. “What could a +body do?”</p> + +<p>Parson Allwise himself, though he made it a point +never to interfere in the domestic affairs of his parishioners, +was at last moved to try his powers of persuasion +on the poor fellow. But Jim, unfortunately +for the success of the appeal, had but a poor opinion +of ministers in general, and of Parson Allwise in particular, +and as good as told the worthy pastor that he +had better mind his own business.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Scroggins was shocked at the boldness of her +spouse in answering a minister of the gospel in such +a pointed manner, and was led to believe that the case +was now hopeless, indeed.</p> + +<p>But woman’s wits are equal to almost any emergency; +and, though she had professedly given Jim +over to the tender mercies of the devil, she could not +help thinking it would be a good thing if he could +only be saved from himself.</p> + +<p>One day circumstances seemed to conspire in favor +of an experiment, which had suggested itself to her +fertile brain, and she immediately carried it into effect +with the most happy success, as the sequel will show.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span></p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_2"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Jim had been cleaning out the pig pen, and as the +operation was a rather disagreeable one, he had fortified +his olfactories by drinking an inordinate quantity +of vile New England rum.</p> + +<p>The filthy stuff happily did not take effect on his +brains till the job was done. The pig pen was cleaned +out, but Jim was in a condition which better fitted +him to occupy it, than the neat white-floored kitchen +of his cottage. But Jim did not realize this unpleasant +truth, and leaving his shovel and hoe in the sty, +staggered into the house.</p> + +<p>“He was a sight to behold,” as Mrs. Scroggins +told the minister. The job he had just completed was +eminently a nasty one, and Jim, as we have before +remarked, being a prudent man, had prepared himself +to perform it, without any detriment to the neat garments +he ordinarily wore.</p> + +<p>He was dressed in a suit of ragged clothes, and +on his head rested a “shocking bad hat,” with the +crown stove in, and the brim half torn off. As the +liquor began to fuddle him, he had moved it over +from its perpendicular position, so that it rested jauntily +on one side of his head.</p> + +<p>Jim settled himself heavily in a chair by the cooking +stove, looked silly, and seemed disposed to address +himself to slumber, his usual resort when inebriated.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Scroggins was mad at first; for it was only +the day before that Jim, for the hundred and first +time, had promised never to drink another drop, not +even in case of sickness.</p> + +<p>But what was the use of being mad with such a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>poor, silly, imbecile being as he was at that moment? +He was not in a condition to appreciate a regular +matrimonial “blow up,” and she wisely resolved to +reserve the vials of her wrath to be poured out at a +more convenient season.</p> + +<p>She looked at him, and thought of losing the little +place, of penury, degradation, misery, and the poorhouse. +A lucky thought rose, like the phœnix from +the flames, out of the contemplation of the dark picture; +and after a few minutes deliberation, she put on +her bonnet and cloak, and hurried over to the village, +not half a mile distant.</p> + +<p>During the previous week, a young daguerreotypist, +with a portable saloon—a kind of overgrown omnibus—had +been delighting the villagers by giving them +the semblance of their faces at prices varying from +nine shillings to three dollars a head, depending upon +the value of the case.</p> + +<p>All the people in town had been daguerreotyped, and +the omnibus man was the most popular person in the +village. All the dames and maidens were taken, and +every Jonathan and Jehiel who could boast of a Susan, +a Ruth, or a Sally, was taken, with her by his side in +the picture, his arm thrown lovingly round her neck, +and both looking unutterably affectionate.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Scroggins was not sentimental; she had +gotten over all that, long before Jim took to drinking. +She proposed to put the skill of the daguerreotypist to +a more practical use than that of propitiating a lover.</p> + +<p>She entered the saloon, and though her heart did +beat a little at the degradation of exposing her domestic +matters to an entire stranger, she demeaned herself +with all the firmness necessary for the trying occasion.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span></p> + +<p>Fortunately for her, all the people in town “had +been taken,” and it was a dry time with the artist. +In as few words as possible, she stated the case to +him, and the young man readily promised his coöperation.</p> + +<p>Taking his apparatus under his arm, he accompanied +Mrs. Scroggins to the cottage, where Jim was sleeping +off the effects of the villainous “New England.”</p> + +<p>The inebriate sat in precisely the same position in +which his wife had left him. He was asleep in a high +back chair, which kept his head up so that every +thing was favorable for the sitting.</p> + +<p>In a trice Jim Scroggins, old hat, ragged clothes, +long beard, dozy, drunken expression and all, were +transferred to the plate.</p> + +<p>But the picture did not suit the artist; he thought +one taken when the sitter was awake would be a more +correct representation. Mrs. Scroggins thought so too, +and after the daguerreotypist had put in a new plate, +she waked him up.</p> + +<p>“What d’ye want?” growled Jim.</p> + +<p>“Wake up!” and the lady gave him a smart pinch, +which opened his eyes, thus completing the expression +of the drunkard.</p> + +<p>The artist was prompt, and in an instant the second +edition of Jim Scroggins was on the plate.</p> + +<p>The original, not being required for further use, was +suffered to sink away and complete his nap.</p> + +<p>The pictures were put in a frame, and Mrs. Scroggins +produced her money.</p> + +<p>“Nothing, ma’am; I shall not charge you any thing.”</p> + +<p>“But, sir, I am able to pay.”</p> + +<p>The artist shook his head, and resolutely refused to +touch her money.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span></p> + +<p>Of course Mrs. Scroggins was grateful, and gave +the young artist an invitation to take tea with her, +which he accepted. In the course of the meal—the +table being laid in the little front room—the daguerreotypist +told the story of his own life; how he had +been brought up in the midst of intemperance, and +knew all about it. His father had died a drunkard, +leaving his mother penniless, and he supported her by +the profits of his portable saloon. Mrs. Scroggins, of +course, sympathized with the young man, and readily +understood why he would not take pay for the pictures, +but what was better than all, the young artist took +quite a fancy to Jim’s only daughter, a pretty little +girl of eighteen, and after tea insisted upon taking her +daguerreotype. And the sly rogue pretended that the +first was not a good one, and took another, which he +carried away with him, professedly for a show specimen, +though, to my certain knowledge, he never exhibited +it.</p> + +<p>The tea things were cleared away, and still the +young gentleman lingered, and talked a great deal +with the pretty little Susan. But when he did go, +the poor girl’s heart followed him, and half the night +she lay awake to think of him.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Jim Scroggins recovered from his debauch; but the +first thing he saw when he came into the kitchen, in +the morning, was the case containing the two daguerreotypes, +which lay open on the table.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span></p> + +<p>He picked it up, and started back in confusion, +when he recognized his own distorted features in one +of the pictures.</p> + +<p>He examined the other. It was the counterpart of +the first, with the eyes open, and looking ten times +more hideous than the sleeping picture.</p> + +<p>“Good gracious!” exclaimed he; “did I ever look +so infarnal homely as that?” and he proceeded to +scrutinize the pictures a second time.</p> + +<p>“Hang me! if I thought I ever looked so cussed +mean as that, I’d go down and jump into the river.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve seen men though, that looked just like that +’ere,” continued he; “but them was drunkards. Now, +I an’t a drunkard, though I sometimes git a little +sizzled. I never lit my pipe at the pump, though. +Howsomever, them was took for me, though when or +where I’ve no kind o’ notion. There’s the old hat, +and that’s the old coat—no mistake.”</p> + +<p>The footsteps of his wife caused him to drop the +pictures, and he hastened out of the house to avoid +the tempest which he thought his wickedness would +call down upon his head.</p> + +<p>It is a notable fact that he omitted his morning dram +on this occasion, and his wife took courage. Like a +prudent woman, as she was, she did not say a word +about the occurrences of yesterday, and permitted him +to eat his breakfast in peace.</p> + +<p>He got through that day without drinking a drop; +but on the following day the old appetite clamored for +the usual dram, and in the afternoon, while his wife +was in the sitting room, he went to the closet where +he kept the bottle.</p> + +<p>But the first thing that met his gaze was the two +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>daguerreotypes resting against the black bottle. There +was Jim Scroggins drunk asleep, and Jim Scroggins +drunk awake.</p> + +<p>“Them cussed dogerytypes!” muttered he, starting +back in confusion, at the miserable-looking object they +so faithfully shadowed to him.</p> + +<p>Jim stopped to think. He fully resolved never again +to be the loathsome being they represented him to be. +Taking the black bottle, he went to the door with it, +and with right good will hurled it on the door stone, +where it was smashed into a thousand fragments, and +the delectable stuff irretrievably lost.</p> + +<p>“Halloo! what are you about?” said a young man, +entering the yard.</p> + +<p>“Smashing my rum bottle,” replied Jim, with admirable +coolness.</p> + +<p>“Bravo! I commend your resolution,” replied the +young man.</p> + +<p>“You are the dogerytype man, an’t you?” said Jim.</p> + +<p>“I am.”</p> + +<p>“Walk in, if you please;” and Jim ushered Mr. +Shadow into the sitting room, where his wife and +daughter were.</p> + +<p>“Wife,” said he, “you had them picters taken?”</p> + +<p>“I did, James.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve broke the bottle; and as to looking like them +creturs, I never will again.”</p> + +<p>“Thank God, James; I hope you never will.”</p> + +<p>“Here is the pledge,” said Mr. Shadow, who was +a temperance man in theory as well as practice.</p> + +<p>“I’ll sign it, by mighty!” and Jim did sign it.</p> + +<p>“Now, wife, will you rub them things out?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, James,” and Mrs. Scroggins went for +the pictures.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span></p> + +<p>“And now, Mr. Scroggins, if you will walk over +to my saloon, I shall be happy to take the real man +as God made him.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do it; and, Betsey, you shall come, too; and +Susey.”</p> + +<p>Susey went with her father and mother, though her +picture had been taken. On the way Mr. Shadow +walked by her side, and said a great many silly things, +with which I will not trouble the reader.</p> + +<p>The daguerreotypes were taken, and Jim was surprised +at the difference between the picture of a drunken +man and that of a sober man.</p> + +<p>He drank no more liquor; and though this incident +happened three years ago, he is still a sober and +reputable man in the village. The little place is all +paid for, and Mrs. Scroggins is superlatively happy.</p> + +<p>Susan, in less than a year, became the wife of Mr. +Shadow, who, notwithstanding his name, is a man of +substance, and loves his wife all the more because he +was instrumental in saving her from the degradation +of being a drunkard’s daughter.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="SIX_HUNDRED_A_YEAR"> + SIX HUNDRED A YEAR. + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<img class="drop-cap w33" src="images/i_041.jpg" alt="Y" style="max-width: 23.4375em;"> + +<p class='drop-cap d15'><span class='upper-case'>“Well</span>, Dixon, what is it?” asked +Mr. Phogie of his assistant bookkeeper, +who had been patiently +waiting for half an hour in the +private counting room of the +merchant for an opportunity to +speak with his employer.</p> + +<p>“My second year in your service +will begin to-morrow, sir; +and I have taken the liberty to +request your attention to a matter +which, though of little consequence +to you, perhaps, is of +considerable moment to me.”</p> + +<p>The young man paused as if to note the effect of +his words upon his employer.</p> + +<p>“Indeed!” ejaculated the merchant, not half liking +the cool and dignified way the young gentleman +had of introducing himself.</p> + +<p>To his mind there was a lack of that cringing, +subservient tone and manner which his old-fashioned +notions had taught him to believe was a dangerous deficiency +in a clerk.</p> + +<p>“I refer to my salary, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span></p> + +<p>There was a gathering frown upon the brow of the +merchant.</p> + +<p>“I have endeavored to serve you faithfully,” continued +the clerk, rather discouraged by the coldness with +which he was received.</p> + +<p>There was an awkward pause. Mr. Phogie’s philosophy +did not permit him to speak; and the young +man was too much embarrassed to proceed with his +application.</p> + +<p>“My salary for the past year has been five hundred +dollars,” stammered Dixon, when he found his +employer was bent on holding his peace.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Mr. Phogie, who still provokingly +refused to take a hint.</p> + +<p>“The object of my present visit is respectfully to +request you to raise it to six hundred,” continued Dixon, +more boldly, as he began to appreciate the humor +of his employer.</p> + +<p>Mr. Phogie stared, aghast with astonishment and +horror, at the supplicant. Cruikshank or Johnston +would have accounted the scene quite equal to that +in the workhouse, where Oliver Twist, in a less important +matter, had the unheard-of presumption and +impudence to “ask for more.”</p> + +<p>Dixon lost all hope.</p> + +<p>“I trust, sir, I am not unreasonable,” said he, excusing +his boldness.</p> + +<p>“Forty years ago, Dixon, when I was of your age,” +began Mr. Phogie, with solemn deliberateness, “I +should have been glad to have received one half of +your present salary.”</p> + +<p>The merchant looked complacently at the clerk, to +note the effect of this astounding declaration.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span></p> + +<p>Dixon ventured to suggest that the times had +changed.</p> + +<p>Mr. Phogie admitted it, but was quite sure the +change had been for the worse.</p> + +<p>“That is a matter of opinion, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Humph!”</p> + +<p>“It costs much more to live now than it did then.”</p> + +<p>“Young men didn’t drive fast horses then, nor go +to the opera, nor board at fashionable hotels,” sneered +Mr. Phogie.</p> + +<p>“I am guilty of none of these follies, sir,” replied +Dixon, a little indignant at the coarseness of the implication.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not; but five hundred dollars a year is a +good salary for a prudent, careful young man.”</p> + +<p>“For one who can do no better, it is very well.”</p> + +<p>“Clerks are vain nowadays, and over-estimate themselves,” +said Mr. Phogie, rebuking the complacence of +his servant.</p> + +<p>“I do not ask an increase of salary, sir, because I +cannot <i>live</i> on five hundred dollars, but because I wish +to advance myself, and, if you will pardon my vanity, +because I think my services are worth more.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, sir; when young men get above their +business, there is no knowing where they will stop. +I cannot accede to your demand;” and Mr. Phogie, +to show his indifference, busied himself in arranging +some papers on the desk before him.</p> + +<p>“Then, sir, I shall be obliged to give you notice +of my intention to leave your service,” returned Dixon, +evidently relieved by the fact that the interview +was concluded, even in this unsatisfactory manner.</p> + +<p>Mr. Phogie paused in his occupation and looked +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span>with surprise upon the clerk. It was doubtful whether +Dixon meant so.</p> + +<p>“Got another situation?” asked he.</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing in view?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing, sir. Of course I could not make an +arrangement till I had consulted you.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Phogie was not pleased with the result of the +interview. Dixon was an honest, faithful, and devoted +clerk, and the idea of parting with him was not +agreeable. But to retract what he had hastily said, +would be an indication of weakness; besides, he +knew that any quantity of clerks could be obtained +for four, or even three hundred dollars a year; and +he reasoned with himself that he should be a fool to +pay Dixon six when he could get one for three.</p> + +<p>Accordingly Dixon gave formal notice of his intention +to “quit;” but, having already earned a reputation +for integrity and fidelity, he could easily obtain +a situation at the salary he had demanded of Mr. +Phogie.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_3"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>“Good morning, Mr. Phogie,” said Mr. Wyman, a +liberal-minded merchant, as he entered the counting +room of the former.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, sir. Any thing new stirring?”</p> + +<p>“No; I called to see you about a young man who +has been in your employ; I mean Dixon.”</p> + +<p>Phogie was all attention.</p> + +<p>“I want a bookkeeper, and he has applied for the +situation. How is he?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span></p> + +<p>Phogie did not very well like to say he was a competent +man, honest, faithful, and zealous; he did not +dare say he was any thing else; so he was compelled +to compromise the matter for the moment by saying +nothing.</p> + +<p>“I was very much surprised to hear from him that +he had left your service. Any thing unpleasant?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Blot the books?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Inaccurate?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Off too much?”</p> + +<p>“No; nothing of the kind.”</p> + +<p>“But he was always considered one of the most +promising young men on the street.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Wyman was perplexed by the taciturnity of the +other.</p> + +<p>“I don’t ask from idle curiosity; I want a bookkeeper.”</p> + +<p>Phogie was dumb.</p> + +<p>“Has the young man any fault?” and there were +visible evidences of impatience in the tones and manner +of the matter-of-fact merchant.</p> + +<p>“Not that I know of.”</p> + +<p>“O, you didn’t want him?”</p> + +<p>“No—that is—yes—but——”</p> + +<p>“Exactly so!” exclaimed Wyman, laughing.</p> + +<p>Phogie laughed too; he could not help laughing +when he saw what a figure he was making; besides, +a laugh is sometimes a great relief to a man +in a quandary.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span></p> + +<p>“If you must know, Wyman, I’ll tell you. I gave +him five hundred for the last year; he wants six for +the next. I won’t give it.”</p> + +<p>“No?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; that is the whole story.”</p> + +<p>“Wait a minute till I have secured him, and then +I will talk with you;” and Wyman moved towards +the door.</p> + +<p>“Give him six hundred?” asked Phogie, not a little +astonished to find his neighbor so eager to complete +the engagement.</p> + +<p>“Yes; seven if he demands it.”</p> + +<p>“I can send you half a dozen in an hour who will +engage for three.”</p> + +<p>“Will you give bonds for their integrity and fidelity?” +asked Wyman with a sneer.</p> + +<p>“Pooh!”</p> + +<p>“Pooh? The fact is, I have suffered enough from +cheap clerks. Assure me that a young man is honest +and true to my interest, and I never will let him leave +me on account of any reasonable difference about +salary. All that Solomon said about a virtuous woman +I believe in, with regard to an honest and faithful +clerk.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t afford to pay these big salaries; and a +young man gets above his business when you pay +him too much.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense! He will respect himself, which every +man must do in order to keep himself honest.”</p> + +<p>“You are a transcendentalist.”</p> + +<p>“I’m common sense. You say you cannot afford +to pay high salaries. Can you afford to have a semi-annual +deficit in your cash account of three hundred +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>dollars, botched up with false entries, lying balances, +and the like?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Phogie had never been troubled in this way, +and there was no probability that he ever should be; +he looked out for his business himself, and he should +like to see the clerk that could “bamboozle” him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wyman thought otherwise, and took his leave, +wondering at the stupidity of his friend. It occurred +to him, as he left the counting room, that it was not +so very strange, after all, that clerks on three hundred +a year can drive 2:40 horses and go to the +opera three nights in a week; not very strange, +either, that petty defalcations were discovered occasionally, +and that young men on small salaries got +ahead amazingly fast.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_1"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Wyman engaged Dixon, and Phogie procured the +services of an ill-looking fellow for three hundred +dollars. The next time he saw Wyman, he indulged +in a little innocent raillery over the fact that he paid +his new clerk but just half the salary Dixon received; +and Phogie thought he was even a better bookkeeper +than Dixon, wrote a plainer hand, and could run up a +column of figures rather quicker. As to the new +clerk’s honesty, he had a bundle of testimonials as +big as the invoice book; and his maternal uncle was +president of the Soap and Candle Makers’ Bank. Of +course he was honest!</p> + +<p>Things went on swimmingly for six months. The +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span>new assistant was a jewel; and when Mr. Quilldriver, +the head bookkeeper, was taken down with rheumatism, +which proved to be chronic, Mr. Phogie had so +much confidence in this notable nephew of a notable +uncle, that he gave him the entire charge of the books, +and, in the liberality of his big heart, advanced his +salary voluntarily to four hundred dollars a year.</p> + +<p>On the first of January, however, when Mr. Phogie +called for the balance sheet, it was not ready. The +trial balance didn’t come out right, and the profit and +loss account looked “thundering strange,” as Mr. +Phogie classically expressed it. Three days were +hopelessly used up in “taking stock;” but the +thing couldn’t be figured out.</p> + +<p>Mr. Phogie began to be alarmed. The general—a +noted expert in unsnarling complicated and difficult +accounts—was called in to examine into affairs; but +no sooner did the smart nephew of the president of +the Soap and Candle Makers’ Bank, see the well-known +gray locks of the expert bent over the obstinate folios, +than he stepped out to lunch, and, by some singular +oversight, forgot to return.</p> + +<p>The upshot of the whole matter was, that the general +discovered an “absquatulation” of some fifteen +hundred dollars—just enough to keep the dapper +little bookkeeper in opera tickets and 2:40’s during +the past season.</p> + +<p>Of course the thing went up and down the street; +and the little ragged news boys in State Street bellowed +it at the top of their lungs into the ears of +the passer by.</p> + +<p>“Why, Phogie, how’s this?” said Mr. Wyman, +meeting the supporter of the cheap clerk system.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span></p> + +<p>Mr. Phogie used a very hard word, which only the +ministers are permitted to use in stirring sermons.</p> + +<p>“Pay ’em well, Phogie, and they won’t steal; and +when you get a faithful servant, don’t part with him.”</p> + +<p>Phogie scowled and edged off.</p> + +<p>“By the way, Dixon has brought every thing out +as square as a brick. Trial balance, balance sheet, +every thing foots up without the variation of a penny,” +continued Wyman, maliciously, as Phogie increased +his speed.</p> + +<p>Poor penny-wise, pound-foolish merchant! He +learned better after that.</p> + +<p>For the satisfaction of the reader, I may as well +add, that Dixon got a thousand for his next year’s +service, and that he is now engaged to his employer’s +pretty daughter, with the prospect of immediately becoming +a partner in the concern.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_NEW_MINISTER"> + THE NEW MINISTER; + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>OR</span>, + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>“CHARITY BEGINS AT HOME.”</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d00'><span class='upper-case'>“It</span> is abominable hypocrisy for you to talk so, +Susan; you don’t care any more about the missionaries +than you do about the fifth wheel of a coach,” +exclaimed Louise Percy, the village schoolmistress, to +her friend, Susan Maylie, at whose father’s house she +boarded.</p> + +<p>“Why, Louise, how rude you are! You wouldn’t +like it if I should talk so about you,” replied Susan, +an angry flush gathering upon her cheek.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I shouldn’t; but if it were true, I don’t +know that I could blame you for it.”</p> + +<p>“It is not true, Louise.”</p> + +<p>“Why, it is only two months since you refused to +put any thing into the contribution box for the missions. +You said you thought the missionaries were a +set of lazy vagabonds, who had a good deal rather +preach than work for a living. Now, since the new +minister has come, all of a sudden you are a strenuous +friend of missions and missionaries.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t a body change her opinions, when they are +found to be wrong?” replied Susan, petulantly.</p> + +<p>“Certainly you can; but is your opinion really +changed?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span></p> + +<p>“How strange you talk, Louise!”</p> + +<p>“May be I do; truth is stranger than fiction.”</p> + +<p>“You must confess that our new minister’s eloquence +has been quite enough to convince any reasonable +person that the propagation of the gospel among the +heathen is a holy and beautiful work.”</p> + +<p>“Undoubtedly, it is a good work; and if you really +feel called upon to labor so earnestly in the cause, I +am sure I should be the last one to reprove you for it.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t believe I am sincere, then?”</p> + +<p>“I think you are very fond of the new minister. +If an old man, with a wife and half a dozen children, +had preached those missionary sermons, I hardly believe +you would have felt so much interest in the +work.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Louise, you astonish me! I really believe +you hate the missionaries.”</p> + +<p>“On the contrary, I have the highest respect for +them. I have always contributed my mite to sustain +them. I think I was quite as strongly attached to the +cause before this young and handsome Mr. Rogers +made his appearance among us, as I am now;” and +Louise laughed merrily.</p> + +<p>“He <i>is</i> handsome, isn’t he,” said Susan, catching +the playful spirit of her companion and confidant.</p> + +<p>“I grant that with the greatest pleasure: but if you +expect to catch him, you had better moderate your +missionary ardor, and act yourself.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, Louise, I really feel an interest in the +cause;” and Susan looked as sober as though she had +been a missionary herself, just on the point of starting +for the interior of Africa.</p> + +<p>Louise laughed merrily again, as she looked doubtfully +into the face of her friend.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span></p> + +<p>A knock at the door started them from the revery +into which both had fallen.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Rogers, as I live!” exclaimed Louise, catching +a glance at the new minister as he stood on the +door stone.</p> + +<p>“Pray, don’t be rude, Louise,” said Susan, as she +adjusted her dress before the glass.</p> + +<p>“Be rude! of course not; but I shall say just what +I think.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t Louise. Be a friend of missions, for my +sake.”</p> + +<p>Susan opened the door, and Mr. Rogers entered the +house.</p> + +<p>“I have called, Miss Maylie, to propose a plan for +a tea party in aid of the missions,” said he, after the +common place introductories had been disposed of. +“I look to you, who have been first and foremost in +this good cause, for sympathy and coöperation.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be very glad, indeed, to do all I can to +forward the good work,” said Susan, demurely, “and +so will Miss Percy.”</p> + +<p>“You must excuse me; my time is so much occupied +that I do not think I shall be able to render any +essential aid,” interposed Louise, scarcely able to restrain +a laugh at the prompt tender Susan had made +of her services.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you are not interested in the missions,” +suggested Mr. Rogers.</p> + +<p>“To some extent, I am, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I trust, then, we shall be able to enlist your sympathies. +Certainly the heathen, perishing in their sins, +demand a noble effort on the part of the Christian +world.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span></p> + +<p>“I do not question the lofty character of the missionary +enterprise, but I do think charity ought to begin +at home.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Louise, how strange you talk!” exclaimed +Susan.</p> + +<p>“True, Miss Percy, but it ought not to end there. +I see you favor the home missions.”</p> + +<p>“I do. I favor a mission nearer home than any +society has been formed to advance, in our village at +least—the mission to the poor and destitute.”</p> + +<p>“The gospel is preached for all,” said the minister.</p> + +<p>“<i>For</i> all, but not <i>to</i> all. There is poor Mrs. Weston, +who cannot afford to buy clothes to send her children +to meeting.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed!” ejaculated the minister.</p> + +<p>“Her husband is a poor, miserable drunkard,” added +Susan. “You don’t think her a worthier object of +charity than the poor, suffering, dying heathen, who +are perishing in their ignorance and sin?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, I do!” returned Louise.</p> + +<p>“Her case ought to be attended to immediately,” +said Mr. Rogers.</p> + +<p>“She ought to go to the poorhouse; the overseers +offered to take her,” continued Susan.</p> + +<p>“The poorhouse! Mrs. Weston has seen better +days, and, I doubt not, would rather die than be subjected +to such a bitter humiliation.”</p> + +<p>“Her own fault, then; if she won’t let the town +help her, what more can be done?”</p> + +<p>“She went to Deacon Hapgood, who owns the hovel +in which she lives, to get him to take off ten dollars +a year from her rent. But the Deacon didn’t see how +he could afford it, and the poor woman left him, to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>continue alone her struggle with the demon of poverty +as best she might. Yet the Deacon can afford to give +a hundred dollars a year to the missions, and says he +never feels the sacrifice.”</p> + +<p>“I will see Deacon Hapgood,” said the minister, +musingly.</p> + +<p>“I hope you will teach him that ‘charity begins at +home.’”</p> + +<p>“The hungry can be fed, the naked clothed, the +houseless sheltered, and still there will be means left +to carry on the missions. We are commanded to +‘preach the gospel to all nations.’”</p> + +<p>“And reminded that the poor are always with us. +There is Farmer Jones: he can’t afford to buy a spelling +book for his daughter, but he gives large sums of +money to the missionary society.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Rogers, who was an earnest seeker after truth, +and who nobly endeavored to do his duty, began to +feel that there was a great deal of practical wisdom in +the remarks of the schoolmistress.</p> + +<p>After a little more conversation, in relation to the +proposed tea party, he took his leave.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_4"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Louise Percy, without being very beautiful or very +bewitching, was a very sensible, earnest, straightforward +girl. With a warm heart and generous disposition, +she was free, open, and sincere in her intercourse +with the world.</p> + +<p>Just the opposite was her friend and confidant, +Susan Maylie, though, as the world goes, she passed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>for a good-hearted person. She lacked that transparency +of motive which was so eminently the characteristic +of Louise’s temperament. Where no strong prejudice +actuated her, she was generally prompt in her +choice of the good from the evil, though sometimes +the most intimate friend was involuntarily led to +suspect her motive.</p> + +<p>Six months before we introduce them to the reader, +the village in which they resided was thrown into +commotion by the arrival of the new minister, who had +been called to officiate in the parish church.</p> + +<p>He was young, handsome, and, more than all, unmarried. +Straightway, one half of the eligible maidens +in town became interested in “serious things.” The +prayer meetings and the conference meetings were all +at once found to be seasons of special interest. All +the charitable societies connected with the church +suddenly become prosperous. The missionary society, +which was composed of ladies, who met once a month +at the sewing circle, received a new impetus from the +arrival of Mr. Rogers.</p> + +<p>The young clergyman made it a point to attend +these meetings, for he was particularly interested in +the enterprise of sending the gospel to the heathen. +He had preached several sermons on his favorite topic, +and his exertions were rewarded by the creation of a +strong and unusual feeling on the subject.</p> + +<p>Susan, all at once, found her mind intently engaged +in the engrossing subject. It is true she had learned +from her father to ridicule and despise the missions; +but then her heart was hard, and the ministrations of +the handsome young clergyman had turned her mind +from the vanities and vexations of life, to the lofty and +substantial realities of “serious things.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span></p> + +<p>Louise could not help noticing the sudden and remarkable +change; but then Susan so constantly spoke +of the minister’s handsome face; so often sneered at +the thought of sundry village belles, whom she was +malicious enough to accuse of attempting to “catch” +him, that she readily fathomed the occasion of the singular +transformation.</p> + +<p>Louise got out of patience with her friend’s duplicity, +but suspecting that it might be involuntary, or the +consequence of a want of consideration, she had plainly +pointed out the inconsistency. Susan could hardly +deny the fact, and feeling that Louise was a true friend, +one who would not proclaim her infirmity to the world, +she suffered the charge to pass unrefuted.</p> + +<p>“I am going to set up an opposition to the missionary +society,” said Louise, after Mr. Rogers had +gone.</p> + +<p>“Pray, what mad scheme have you got in your brain +now?” asked Susan.</p> + +<p>“I am going to do something for the relief of Mrs. +Weston.”</p> + +<p>“How foolish you are!”</p> + +<p>“Am I?”</p> + +<p>“You are, very foolish. It is the town’s business +to look out for paupers.”</p> + +<p>“It is my business, too, and yours, Susan.”</p> + +<p>“I am sure <i>I</i> shall not meddle with it.”</p> + +<p>“We have each of us reserved five dollars for charitable +purposes, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“I shall give mine to Mrs. Weston.”</p> + +<p>“And I shall give mine to the missions. I thought +you were going to do the same.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span></p> + +<p>“I have altered my mind. I cannot send my money +across the ocean, when there is an abundance of heathen +growing up in ignorance around us. Now, if you will +put your five dollars with mine, it will just make up +the amount the poor woman asked the deacon to abate +her rent.”</p> + +<p>“I shall do no such thing, I assure you. I am too +much interested in the missions to throw my money +away upon the town’s paupers.”</p> + +<p>“Very well; I will not urge you.”</p> + +<p>“What do you suppose Mr. Rogers would say, if I +should give nothing to the missions?”</p> + +<p>“Are you beholden to him to render an account of +your stewardship? For my part, I shouldn’t care +what he thought. Do your duty, Susan, let folks +think as they may. If I had money enough, I would +contribute handsomely towards having the gospel +preached to such heathen as Deacon Hapgood, Farmer +Jones, and some others who support missions, while +they starve their own souls and those of their families.”</p> + +<p>Susan, knowing how obstinate Louise was when +excited, refrained from opposing the purpose she had +announced, and Louise retired to her room.</p> + +<p>“Five dollars,” said she, musingly; “it is more +than a week’s pay; but she shall have it; yes, and +more too. Since Susan has refused to join me in this +work of charity, I will give another five dollars; and +then how happy the poor creature will be!”</p> + +<p>The face of the gentle-hearted girl lighted up with +an involuntary smile, as she opened her drawer and +took therefrom the ten dollars. It was a large sum for +her; but she cheerfully resigned the pleasures it would +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span>purchase, and looked forward to the joy she was about +to carry to the cottage of the drunkard’s wife.</p> + +<p>With a light heart she tripped down the road to +execute her charitable mission. As she entered the +hovel, she shrank back at the scene of wretchedness +presented to her view. The poor woman, pale and +haggard with care, apparently with one foot in the +grave, was surrounded by half a dozen ragged children, +whom her utmost exertions could hardly feed with the +coarsest fare, and clothe even with the miserable garments +that only half covered their nakedness.</p> + +<p>Stating the object of her visit, Louise handed to her +the ten dollars.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Weston started back in amazement. Such unheard +of liberality overwhelmed her with confusion. If +Deacon Hapgood could not afford to take off ten dollars +from her rent, how could a poor girl afford to +give her that sum outright? Before she could recover +her self-possession sufficiently to express her gratitude, +the young minister entered the house.</p> + +<p>Mr. Rogers was almost as much astonished at the +generosity of Louise as Mrs. Weston had been; and +when he took his leave, he gladdened the poor creature’s +heart by adding another ten dollars to the gift.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp52" id="i_056" style="max-width: 65.875em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_056.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <span class="smcap">The New Minister.</span> Page 58. + </figcaption> +</figure> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_2"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>After their departure from Mrs. Weston’s, Mr. +Rogers walked by the side of Louise towards her residence. +The conversation was earnest, and at times +warm, for Louise had opinions of her own, and was +not diffident in maintaining them, even against the +eloquence of the parson.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span></p> + +<p>Mr. Rogers was not less pleased with the spirit and +independence of his companion than he was with her +warm heart and charitable disposition. And when he +bade adieu to her at the door of Mr. Maylie’s house, +he could not banish her from his mind.</p> + +<p>The following day was Sunday. Oddly enough for +him, the minister had not a word to say about missions +or the heathen. His text was, “The poor ye have +always with you.”</p> + +<p>It was a noble sermon, showing that the poor, by +being continually before the eye, came to be regarded +with indifference and neglect, while objects of charity +far removed by distance, excited the liveliest sympathy +and commiseration. He demonstrated that the first +duty of all was to relieve distress in their midst; in +fine, that “charity begins at home.” It was shown, +very much to the edification of Deacon Hapgood, who +sat in the broad aisle, wondering “what the minister +was driving at,” that a rich man could not blind the +eye of his Maker by giving large sums to the missions, +while he oppressed the poor, and turned a deaf ear to +their prayer for help.</p> + +<p>Louise was deeply interested in the sermon, while a +majority of the congregation arrived at the conclusion +that Mr. Rogers had gone crazy. It was a reflection +of her views, and a feeling of proud satisfaction pervaded +her mind, as she reflected that she had been +instrumental in calling the minister’s attention to the +subject.</p> + +<p>The effect of the sermon was immediate and substantial. +Every one of the “eligible young ladies” +straightway emptied the contents of their purses into +Mrs. Weston’s lap. A society was proposed for ameliorating +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span>the condition of the poor, whom they always +had with them. But Mr. Rogers cruelly vetoed the +measure, not thinking an organized effort necessary to +complete the work, especially as Mrs. Weston, who +was, perhaps, the only destitute person in town, had +money enough to pay a year’s rent and three months’ +provision in her cellar.</p> + +<p>In the mean time, Mr. Rogers manifested a laudable +interest in the welfare of the village school, and even +preached a sermon on the duty of parents to their +children. He visited the school three times in one +week, besides conferring four distinct and separate +times with the schoolmistress at her boarding place in +the evening.</p> + +<p>Well, every body—except the eligible young ladies—said +it was the minister’s duty to look after the +school, and see that the mistress did her duty; so +every body, with the exception mentioned, agreed that +Mr. Rogers was particularly faithful in the discharge +of <i>his</i> duty.</p> + +<p>Susan was intensely astonished at the course of +events, and more especially was she pained at the +comparative neglect with which the missions had come +to be regarded. Other charities, nearer home, shared +the sympathies of the young and handsome pastor, +and she suddenly realized that her extraordinary exertions +in spreading the gospel among the heathen had +failed to accomplish the purpose she had in view. +But hope had not yet deserted her. Her eyes were +not as wide open as they might have been, and she +did not yet fully understand the “signs of the times.”</p> + +<p>“What a blessed field of usefulness is open to the +teacher of the district school!” exclaimed she, one +day, to her confidant, the schoolmistress.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span></p> + +<p>Louise looked up from the book she was reading, +astonished at the remark—not at the important truth +involved in it, but that it should proceed from such a +source.</p> + +<p>“It is, indeed, an interesting field of labor to those +who can appreciate it,” replied she, a smile of intelligence +crossing her good-natured countenance.</p> + +<p>“I have been thinking, Louise, that <i>I</i> might be useful +in that capacity.”</p> + +<p>“I do not doubt it.”</p> + +<p>“And I understand that the school in the south district +will be vacant in a few weeks; don’t you think +I could procure the appointment?”</p> + +<p>“Why, Susan, you do not really intend to become +a teacher, do you?”</p> + +<p>“I certainly do. I feel that I have suffered too +many years of my life to pass away in idleness. I +intend to redeem the time.”</p> + +<p>“You cannot mean it.”</p> + +<p>“I am in earnest. Do you think I could get the +appointment?”</p> + +<p>“I can point you to a place nearer home, if you +are really desirous of becoming a teacher.”</p> + +<p>“What place?”</p> + +<p>“You may have mine in the course of a month or +two.”</p> + +<p>“Yours, Louise!”</p> + +<p>“I shall send in my resignation next week.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Louise, I had no idea that you intended to +abandon teaching,” said Susan, with undisguised astonishment; +and, as she had regarded the attentions +her friend received from the handsome young minister +with a jealous eye, perhaps the announcement was +received with some small degree of satisfaction.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span></p> + +<p>“I had no such intention a few days ago. But if +you wish for my place, you can have the opportunity +of making the first application.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be delighted to get it.”</p> + +<p>“I will mention the subject when I send in my resignation.”</p> + +<p>“But, Louise, you have never told us anything about +this. Pray, what is going to happen?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose I must tell you the secret. Of course +you will not betray my confidence?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not.”</p> + +<p>“I am going to be married this fall;” and Louise +blushed up to her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Going to be married! My goodness! And we +never even found out that you had a beau.”</p> + +<p>“It has been rather sudden.”</p> + +<p>“I should think it had. Who is the fortunate gentleman?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Rogers.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Rogers!” exclaimed Susan, starting back in +blank amazement, while the color deserted her cheeks, +and her heart fluttered with emotion.</p> + +<p>“Just so. From the time we met at Mrs. Weston’s, +when I gave the poor woman my money, he has been +very attentive—and, in short, the matter is now settled.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I <i>am</i> astonished!”</p> + +<p>Susan <i>was</i> astonished.</p> + +<p>“I cannot wonder; I am astonished myself. But, +Susan, I think I shall carry in my resignation to-morrow, +and you had better have a written application +ready.”</p> + +<p>Susan bit her lips with vexation, and even wondered +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span>that she had not been fool enough to give her money +to Mrs. Weston, instead of the missionary society.</p> + +<p>“I think on the whole, Louise, that I shall not become +a teacher at present,” said she, as she turned, +and abruptly left the room.</p> + +<p>In the fall Mr. Rogers and Louise were married. +The parsonage is the home of peace, love, and charity. +Mrs. Rogers is a model minister’s wife, and though +the missionary cause receives an earnest support, she +still believes, and acts upon the belief, that “<span class="smcap">Charity +begins at home</span>.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="OUT_NIGHTS"> + “OUT NIGHTS;” + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>OR</span>, + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>BELONGING TO THE “SONS.”</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d03'><span class='upper-case'>“Don’t</span> go out to-night, Charles,” said Mrs. +Prescott, a pretty, sweet-smiling lady, who +had been married just six months, to her husband.</p> + +<p>“Really, Carrie, I am very sorry; but I do not +see how I can be absent from the meeting to-night,” +replied the young husband, as he brought his great-coat +from the entry.</p> + +<p>“You always say so. I wish you did not belong +to the ‘Sons.’ Can’t you leave them?”</p> + +<p>“I could, my dear, if I desired; I have no wish +to do so.”</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t you do it to please me?” said the +lady smiling so sweetly that one could have found it +in his heart to do almost any thing for her.</p> + +<p>“You do not seriously wish me to do so.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, I do.”</p> + +<p>“Think, Carrie.”</p> + +<p>“I am jealous of that society.”</p> + +<p>“Fie!”</p> + +<p>“You leave me here all alone, and you can’t think +how lonesome I am.”</p> + +<p>“I am very sorry to leave you; but, really, I feel +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span>it to be my duty to sustain so good an association as +the ‘Sons of Temperance.’”</p> + +<p>“There are enough without you.”</p> + +<p>“All might, with equal propriety, say so.”</p> + +<p>“They do not all leave a wife alone at home.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t you belong to them without going to the +meetings every night?”</p> + +<p>“I should not wish to do that. To be a merely +nominal member of the Order, is to be nothing at all.”</p> + +<p>“You would be giving your name and influence to +the cause of temperance just as much as you do by +attending the meetings.”</p> + +<p>“What is the cause of temperance, Carrie? I fear +you give it a very vague construction, like many +others in the community.”</p> + +<p>“Why, preventing and curing intemperance.”</p> + +<p>“Preventing and curing it in whom?”</p> + +<p>“Every body, I suppose—all your friends and +neighbors.”</p> + +<p>“But not yourself.”</p> + +<p>“There is no danger of you, Charles.”</p> + +<p>“But I joined the Sons quite as much for my own +sake, as for that of others.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t think you are in any danger of becoming +a drunkard, do you?” asked Mrs. Prescott, with +a smile of incredulity.</p> + +<p>“Not while I am as strongly fortified against the +vice of drinking as I am now.”</p> + +<p>“Pooh! I would risk you, even if you did not belong +to the Sons.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose I should abandon them, and permit myself +to be influenced by the example of those around +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>me—of your brother Frank, for example? Suppose +I should shake off my allegiance to the principle of +total abstinence, how long would it take me to get +rid of all my scruples against drinking a glass of +wine?”</p> + +<p>“Can’t you adhere to the principle without belonging +to a society?”</p> + +<p>“Association strengthens principle.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t steal, Charles; but is it necessary +that you should belong to an anti thieving society?” +and the pretty young wife’s features wore an expression +of triumph.</p> + +<p>“Drinking is a fashionable vice; stealing is not. +When the community regards the fashionable wine +bibber as it does the thief, there will be no occasion +for associated effort to restrain it. Popular opinion +will do the work which the Sons are now doing.”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t think there is any need of going so +constantly,” replied the wife. “<i>Do</i> stay with me to-night; +I feel so lonesome.”</p> + +<p>“The Order acts upon some particular business to-night, +and——”</p> + +<p>“Particular business again!” exclaimed Mrs. +Prescott, with a good-natured laugh.</p> + +<p>“It does indeed.”</p> + +<p>“Always so.”</p> + +<p>“Besides, I am W. P., you know.”</p> + +<p>“W. T., you mean.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Wife tormentor.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, Carrie——”</p> + +<p>“Go along; I will excuse you to-night; but don’t +stay late.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span></p> + +<p>“No, dear.”</p> + +<p>“It was eleven o’clock before you got home last +Saturday night.”</p> + +<p>“I will be home by ten to-night;” and Charles Prescott +kissed his pretty, smiling wife—we beg the +reader to remember that they had been married but six +months—and left the house.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_5"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Mrs. Prescott did not appear to be half so lonesome +as she had pretended she was; for, as her little +white hand delicately and daintily grasped the needle, +the same involuntary smile played on her pretty lips +that had been there while her husband was present.</p> + +<p>Her thoughts must have been very pleasant, or she +could not have worn that bewitching smile. Her soft, +gazelle-like eye, too, beamed forth the language of a +pure and beautiful soul—a soul at rest among the +flowers of its own tender rearing.</p> + +<p>She was thinking, and her thoughts were full of +joy. What a happy wife she was! But perhaps her +view of matrimony was mingled with something of +sentiment—a few grains of that amiable moonshine +which strews flowers and perfumes in the pathway of +the young wife.</p> + +<p>Alas that the blight of coldness should ever come +to wither those flowers which the young and loving +wife scatters in her pathway! Alas that the cares +and trials of life should ever come and cast a great, +broad shadow over that moon of her dreams.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Prescott was happy, and she was <i>thinking</i> how +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span>happy she was. Charles was all love and devotion. +He was industrious, frugal, and temperate; and, +though they lived in a humble house and in a humble +street, she sighed not for the fine things her +neighbors had.</p> + +<p>They lived comfortably; and, while her husband +loved her, she cared not for tapestry carpets and velvet-covered +lounges.</p> + +<p>Charles had only one failing; and that was, an earnest +devotion to the Order of the Sons of Temperance, +which drew him away from her side every Saturday night. +He never left the house any other evening without +her; and undoubtedly he would have insisted on her +joining the order, only that it was a <i>secret</i> society; +consequently no women could be tolerated within its +pale.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Prescott could not see why her husband should +be a “Son;” he was strictly temperate in his habits. +Poor wife! She neglected to inquire into the reason +of his being so.</p> + +<p>She plied her needle, and smiled forth the joy that +was in her heart. She was so happy and contented +that there was only one thing left her to wish for—that +her husband was with her.</p> + +<p>About half an hour after Charles had gone, her +brother Frank, who had been married nearly a year, +called with his wife.</p> + +<p>“I have got to go down to the store and post up +the books, Carrie, and I have brought Lucy to stay +with you; she was afraid to stay alone,” said Frank +Winslow, after the two wives had kissed each other, +and said sundry pretty things about the weather and +the walking.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span></p> + +<p>“I am glad you did; I am all alone myself.”</p> + +<p>“Where’s Charley?”</p> + +<p>“Gone to the lodge.”</p> + +<p>“What lodge?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mean the lodge—the meeting of the +‘Sons.’”</p> + +<p>“Bah!”</p> + +<p>“He goes every Saturday night.”</p> + +<p>“What a pity! Charley is a good fellow, and it +is a great shame that he should herd with those fanatics,” +said Frank Winslow.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you talk so about my husband, Frank,” interposed +the loving wife. “He is not half so much +of a fanatic on temperance, as you are on cognac and +sherry.”</p> + +<p>“Fie, sis! I believe in all sorts of good things; +and being a Son is, in my opinion, the next thing to +being a fool.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you tell him so?”</p> + +<p>“I would if he were here. You don’t think I am +afraid of him, do you?”</p> + +<p>“No; but the last time you argued the question +with him——”</p> + +<p>“Bah!” exclaimed Frank, impatiently.</p> + +<p>Promising to call for his wife by ten o’clock, he +left the house.</p> + +<p>“I hope our husbands won’t quarrel over this temperance +question,” said Mrs. Winslow.</p> + +<p>“I hope not.”</p> + +<p>“But this ‘Sons’ business does seem so silly to +me that I cannot wonder Frank laughs at him.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t care any thing about it, only that +Charles is out so late every night at the meetings.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span></p> + +<p>“And leaves you all alone?” asked Mrs. Winslow.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t let him! It is a shame! Why, I +should go into fits if my husband left me alone till +eleven o’clock!” and Mrs. Winslow was horrified at +the very thought.</p> + +<p>“I have said a good deal about it.”</p> + +<p>“Said! Why, I would tip the house over before +I would submit to it.”</p> + +<p>“He is so deeply interested in it.”</p> + +<p>“He ought to be deeply interested in his wife, too.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, nay, Lucy, you wrong him. He loves me +with all his soul.”</p> + +<p>“And leaves you alone till eleven o’clock?”</p> + +<p>“I’m not afraid to stay alone.”</p> + +<p>“Why, it’s almost as bad as having a drunken husband +to sit up for.”</p> + +<p>“O, no, I’m sure it is not.”</p> + +<p>Charles Prescott was warmly condemned by the +visitor, and warmly defended by the wife, who, poor +thing, though she wished he would stay at home, could +not bear to hear a word said against him.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_3"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Before ten o’clock, the two ladies had settled the +question of Charles’s defection, and passed naturally +enough into mousse de laines, laces, and the newest +fashions. Mrs. Winslow did not like to say that he +was a monster in the hearing of his wife; but she +fully believed it; and Mrs. Prescott, moved by the +arguments of her friend, concluded that she was used +much more hardly than she had ever suspected.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span></p> + +<p>Punctual to his appointed hour, Charles came home. +Mrs. Winslow playfully upbraided him for his want +of constancy in leaving his wife to spend the evening +alone; but the husband made a “moral question” of +it, and proceeded to discuss the topic at length.</p> + +<p>An hour was used up in the unprofitable argument, +and the clock struck eleven.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Winslow yawned, and wondered why Frank +did not come—began to think the books must have +gotten into a snarl to keep him so late.</p> + +<p>It was half past eleven before he came.</p> + +<p>“How are ye, old boy?” said he, grasping the +hand of Prescott. “How are the Sons to-night?”</p> + +<p>“As usual—thriving.”</p> + +<p>“What makes you so late, Frank?” asked Mrs. +Winslow. “You promised to come at ten o’clock.”</p> + +<p>“The books got a little twisted. But sit down, +Suke; I want to talk with Charley;” and Frank +threw himself into a rocking chair before the fire.</p> + +<p>“No, no, Frank; it is almost twelve o’clock.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind; sit down. They say there is more +liquor drank since the Maine law was made than ever +before,” said Frank, turning to Charles Prescott.</p> + +<p>“And there is more cheating, killing, and stealing +since the ten commandments were made than ever before. +What does that prove?”</p> + +<p>“Bah!”</p> + +<p>“You refer to the golden calf?”</p> + +<p>“Seriously, Charley, in my opinion, the fanatics, +who made that law ought to be held responsible for +half the drunkenness in the community.”</p> + +<p>“And Paul, Peter, and John for half the sins the +gospel was intended to prevent.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span></p> + +<p>“You talk like one of the fanatics,” said Frank, +his cheek reddening with anger.</p> + +<p>“I merely change the application of the principles +which your remarks cover.”</p> + +<p>“You distort them. A fanatic can’t argue the +question fairly. Come, Suke, let’s go home.”</p> + +<p>Frank Winslow rose from his chair, but instantly +sank back again.</p> + +<p>“What is the matter, Frank?” asked his wife.</p> + +<p>“Nothing; don’t you see?” and he attempted to +rise again, but without success.</p> + +<p>“What ails you? How strange you act!”</p> + +<p>“Your Sons and your Maine laws are a humbug, +Charley; there’s no rubbing that out. Tell me about +your—hic—Maine law!”</p> + +<p>“O Heavens!” groaned the poor wife.</p> + +<p>“What the deuse’s the—hic—matter now?”</p> + +<p>It was too plain to be longer concealed; Frank +Winslow was drunk! The heat of the room was revealing +the terrible truth to the poor wife, to the fond +sister, that the husband and brother was helplessly +intoxicated!</p> + +<p>Charles Prescott was shocked; Carrie’s cheek was +pale, and her frame trembled; that smile was gone, +for the loving brother was a drunkard!</p> + +<p>It was an agonizing moment to the fond wife. +Mountains of sombre clouds came rolling down before +her bewildered senses, and the future was dark with +poverty, woe, disgrace, and death. The drunkard’s +grave yawned like a cavern of hell in the path of +her husband.</p> + +<p>“O, Frank, Frank!” exclaimed she, throwing herself +into his arms, and bathing his brow with her +woman’s tears.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span></p> + +<p>“What in —— ails you all?” said Frank, gazing +round him with a drunken leer.</p> + +<p>Charles attempted to get him upon his feet; but he +was utterly helpless.</p> + +<p>“Let me—hic—alone. I am none of your cussed—hic—fanatics, +that can’t go alone;” and he +fell at full length upon the floor.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Winslow threw herself into a chair, and +sobbed in bitterness of spirit. Carrie wept upon her +bosom. It was a sad sight, that group of weepers +over the drunken body of a noble-hearted, generous +young man. Angels weep over such pitiable objects.</p> + +<p>With much difficulty Charles Prescott succeeded +in putting him to bed; but, to all save the +besotted inebriate, it was a sleepless night. Tears +stained the pillow of the wife and sister, and silent +prayers rose to heaven for the preservation of the +erring young man.</p> + +<p>Morning came, and Frank had slept off his debauch. +He was conscious of his position, and with shame +and humiliation he presented himself in the breakfast +room of his friend. The pale, anxious faces, the red +and swollen eyes of his wife and sister, told him +what they had suffered.</p> + +<p>Like a true man, he acknowledged his fault, and +promised to amend. Charles pointed out the necessity +of making a principle of abstinence, to which he assented, +and promised to connect himself with the +Sons. He kept his promise, and in a few weeks was +initiated.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Prescott, after the impressive lesson she had +received from the experience of her brother, was convinced +that active membership in a temperance society, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>or at least a cherished <i>principle</i> of abstinence, was +necessary in these degenerate days for the salvation +of the young man.</p> + +<p>Her husband had resisted temptation through the +salutary influence of the “Sons;” and she could +not but reflect how unreasonable she had been in attempting +to lure him away from the fountain of his +principle.</p> + +<p>Even Mrs. Winslow has so far overcome her timidity +as to be content to stay alone every Saturday night, +while her husband attends the meetings of the Order. +It is a blessed thing for the wife to be assured that, +while he is away from her in those hours which properly +belong to her, he is fortifying his soul against +the temptations that every where beset him.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span></p> + + +<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="i_075" style="max-width: 39.875em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_075.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="BRING_FLOWERS"> + BRING FLOWERS; + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>OR</span>, + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>GOING INTO MOURNING.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d00'><span class='upper-case'>“I am</span> sure they cannot care much for their sister, +for not one of them had even a black ribbon +on her bonnet,” said Mabel Grant, to her invalid sister.</p> + +<p>“Nay, Mabel, you must not judge them harshly.”</p> + +<p>“But only think of it! Even her mother did not +so much as change her bonnet.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span></p> + +<p>“Probably they have views and opinions of their +own upon the subject,” replied Mary Grant, feebly, +for she was in the last stage of consumption,—that +dreadful scourge of our northern clime,—and even the +exertion of speaking a few words was exceedingly +tiresome.</p> + +<p>“And poor Ellen Lawson, our dear friend and +schoolmate, one of the fairest and truest girls in the +village—to think that she should go down to her +early grave without even a show of mourning in her +own family. It looks like sacrilege to me.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, Mabel, your respect for a mere custom +causes you to disregard the plainest dictates of charity.”</p> + +<p>“I do not mean to be uncharitable.”</p> + +<p>“I know it, Mabel; but you must remember that +the practice of putting on mourning is only a custom; +and there is no sacrifice of love or principle in disregarding +the custom.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know; I cannot think they loved +poor Ellen as she deserved to be loved.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?”</p> + +<p>“Because, if they had, they would at least have +shown a decent respect for her while they stood around +her bier.”</p> + +<p>“Did they seem to be cold, indifferent?” asked the +invalid, with a great deal of interest.</p> + +<p>“No; Mrs. Lawson was very much affected while +in the cemetery. She sobbed as though her heart +would break.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed!”</p> + +<p>“But it did not seem to be real, her dress was so +inappropriate.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span></p> + +<p>“You wrong her, Mabel.”</p> + +<p>“I hope I do.”</p> + +<p>“You cannot see into the heart.”</p> + +<p>“And her sisters, too, if they had not worn white +bonnets, would have seemed like real mourners.”</p> + +<p>“The heart weeps, Mabel, not the dress, nor even +the tearful eye. Many a one in sable weeds has felt +no sorrow for the loss of a parent or a friend.”</p> + +<p>“That may be; but don’t you think yourself that +white bonnets and blue dresses are very improper at +the funeral of a near friend?”</p> + +<p>“It would not be my taste, Mabel,” replied Mary +with a faint smile. “But I wish to accord to every +one the privilege of doing as they please in a matter +of this kind.”</p> + +<p>“So do I; of course they have the right to wear +what they please.”</p> + +<p>“You censure them, though.”</p> + +<p>“Not censure them, Mary; I only say that it looks +as though they did not care much for poor Ellen.”</p> + +<p>“You impugn their motives; you ought to be charitable +to them, however strange they may seem to +act.”</p> + +<p>“I will, sister; but if I had lost a friend, I should +feel as though I was deficient in respect to the memory +of that friend, if I did not put on mourning.”</p> + +<p>Mary sighed; she knew not how soon that dear +sister would be called upon to put on mourning for +her. Even another day of existence might not be permitted +her. She was calmly waiting the hour that +would bear her from the scenes of earth to that brighter +realm beyond the dark grave. Already she heard +the music of the angel’s fluttering wing, and was +ready to lay her head upon the lap of earth.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span></p> + +<p>Mabel penetrated her sister’s thoughts, and turned +away to hide a tear, which sprung unbidden to her +eye.</p> + +<p>“There are many things to be considered, Mabel, in +relation to the custom of wearing mourning. For my +part I think it would be far better if the practice was +entirely discontinued.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Mary! how strange you talk!”</p> + +<p>“You can conceive how very disagreeable it must +be for those who are waiting to consign the remains +of a dear friend to the tomb, to be compelled to attend +upon mantuamakers and milliners.”</p> + +<p>Mabel had never thought of that before.</p> + +<p>“No sooner has the spirit taken its flight, than the +house of death is made the scene of commotion and +confusion, by the preparations to appear in black. +That holy sorrow, which craves solitude, is broken in +upon by the cares of business—by the necessity of +conforming to a mere fashion which requires the mourner +to make a vain show.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you are right, Mary; pray, do not talk +any more. You are quite exhausted.”</p> + +<p>Mary said no more. A shade of deep thought rested +upon her pallid features. She was thinking how much +more soothing it would be, when her redeemed spirit +sped its flight, if her friends could only think of her +while her lifeless clay remained with them, without +the intrusion of milliners and dressmakers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span></p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_6"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>It was spring time, and the joyous birds sung their +cheerful notes upon the blossoming trees. The flowers +were blooming upon the hill side, and Nature was assuming +her verdant robes.</p> + +<p>Under the influence of the mild, balmy air of the +spring, Mary Grant seemed to revive. Her strength +appeared to return with the opening buds, and her +friends dared to hope that she might be spared to behold +the profusion of another summer, the glories of +another autumn. But the disease was deceptive. +While hope smiles, the destroyer comes.</p> + +<p>The physician, after giving the parents of Mary all +the encouragement he could, directed his patient to +ride out as often as the weather would permit.</p> + +<p>The invalid was happy in the privilege of once more +inhaling the balmy breezes, of once again visiting the +cherished scenes, where, in the full vigor of health and +joy, she had gayly and thoughtlessly roamed.</p> + +<p>The village cemetery had always been a hallowed +and beautiful spot to her, and she expressed a desire +to visit it again, ere her inanimate form should be laid +away to slumber beneath its peaceful bosom.</p> + +<p>With Mabel for her companion, the carriage was +slowly driven through the garden of graves. Mary +was silent and thoughtful; and more than once a tear +rose to the eye of Mabel, when she thought how soon +she might be called upon to follow the cold form of +the loved one to her resting-place.</p> + +<p>The invalid was thoughtful, but not gloomy. Already +the spirit had reached forward to the glories of +that better world where there is no death, no sorrow. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span>The grave had no terrors to her; it was a place of +rest. Death was not a hideous, quaking skeleton to +her imagination, but a white-winged angel, who would +fold her upon his bosom, and bear her across the dark +valley to the “house with many mansions, eternal in +the heavens.”</p> + +<p>With introverted thoughts she gazed upon the memorials +of the slumbering dead. The funereal fir, the +pendent willow that swept over the green graves, +diffused a heavenly calm in her heart, and she felt +ready to join the great company that slept beneath +them.</p> + +<p>“There is a new-made grave,” said she, as the +carriage turned the angle of one of the avenues.</p> + +<p>“It is the grave of poor Ellen Lawson,” replied +Mabel.</p> + +<p>Mary requested the driver to stop.</p> + +<p>On the grave, over which no marble had yet been +reared, were several bouquets of fresh flowers. Some +little white blossoms, which had been transplanted +near the head, were opening their tiny buds.</p> + +<p>“Still remembered, Mabel,” said Mary, as she +pointed to the flowers.</p> + +<p>“They place fresh flowers upon her grave every +day.”</p> + +<p>“And do you think they did not love her, Mabel?”</p> + +<p>“O, sister, I know they did.”</p> + +<p>“And wore no black at her funeral?”</p> + +<p>“I was wrong, Mary.”</p> + +<p>“These are meet emblems of the heart’s remembrance. +When I go hence, may the flowers of spring +blossom upon my grave. May some loving hand place +flowers upon the sod that hides me from those I loved +on earth.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span></p> + +<p>“You are sad, sister; do not speak so gloomily.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, Mabel, I am not sad; I am happy.”</p> + +<p>Mabel shed a flood of tears upon the bosom of her +sister.</p> + +<p>“Do not weep, Mabel; we shall meet in heaven, +and be happy there forever.”</p> + +<p>“You are better, dear sister; do not speak so hopelessly.”</p> + +<p>“Only a little while longer, and I shall rest beneath +this sod. But do not be sad; I am happy: I am not +afraid to die. I feel as though the angels were with +me now, waiting to bear me to my home in the skies.”</p> + +<p>Mabel cast another glance at the flower-decked grave +of Ellen Lawson, as the carriage drove on, and she +felt that the heart could more eloquently express its +remembrance of the loved and lost, than by a display +of the sable weeds of the mourner.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_4"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Mary Grant went out of the house no more. In +another week her waiting spirit bade farewell to earth, +and winged its way to its native skies. Calmly and +trustingly, while a heavenly smile played upon her +irradiated features, she breathed her last in the arms +of Mabel.</p> + +<p>She was gone! Her wasted form, from which the +undying soul had just taken its flight, lay in rigid +silence before her. She was beautiful in death—so +beautiful that Mabel could hardly believe she was +dead; that those lips, parted in a placid smile, could +no more speak gentle counsel to her; that those eyes, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span>now motionless and sealed, could no more reflect the +love of that affectionate heart upon her.</p> + +<p>But a moment before, she had bidden her farewell. +Could she be dead? Was it indeed true that those +smiling lips were forever sealed; that another note of +sisterly love could not proceed from them?</p> + +<p>Kind friends were waiting to prepare the body for +the sepulchre, and a gentle hand led her away from +the inanimate form. Then, then she realized that her +sister was indeed dead, and a torrent of woe swept +wildly into her heart.</p> + +<p>Flying to her chamber, she gave free vent to her +grief.</p> + +<p>“She is gone! She is gone!” sobbed she, as she +buried her face beneath her hands, and trembled in +the agony of her emotion.</p> + +<p>Mary died as the sun was sinking behind the western +hills. Her pure spirit had fled with the day; but +the change bore her to an endless day, where there +is no night and the sun never sets.</p> + +<p>Mabel passed a sleepless night. Her pillow was wet +with her tears. She rose in the morning, and hastened +to gaze again upon the form of Mary. She was arrayed +for the grave, and as Mabel bent over her, and +printed a kiss upon the pallid, cold lips, the memories +of the past rushed vividly into her heart. Her eyes +rained tears upon the marble beauty of the corpse.</p> + +<p>And there she stood for an hour, communing with +the days which were now no more; which could never +be again, because the heart that made them glad was +now still in death.</p> + +<p>The formality of the morning meal was disposed of,—it +was nothing more than a form to the weeping +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span>household,—and Mabel returned to the side of her +departed sister. She kissed the cold lips again, and +gave herself up to the flood of irresistible grief which +faithful memory forced upon her.</p> + +<p>“Excuse me, Miss Grant,” said one of the neighbors, +who had come in to assist the family, “but +Miss Barnes, the dressmaker, is waiting to fit your +dress.”</p> + +<p>Her dress! There was something heartless, cruelly +repulsive in the word. Her dress at such a time as +that! Must she leave the bier of her dead sister to +converse upon the details of a garment? Must her +mind abandon the thought of the dead to dwell upon +the fashion of a dress?</p> + +<p>Without a word she went to the sitting room. It +was a busy scene for the house of mourning, and she +learned that the mantuamaker had been there all night, +for the weather was warm, and the funeral must take +place on the following day.</p> + +<p>The conversation of the apartment sounded loathsome +to her. It was not of her dead sister, it was of +the latest fashions, of the propriety of this and that; +the fitness of one article and the unfitness of another.</p> + +<p>They asked her how she would have her dress cut; +but her thoughts were with Mary, and she answered +not. As soon as she could be spared, she left the +dressmakers, and returned to the chamber of the dead.</p> + +<p>Again she wandered back with Mary to the scenes +of their happy childhood. Again the tears flowed +freely down her cheeks, and the spirit of the loved +one seemed to speak to her from the heaven to which +she had ascended.</p> + +<p>“The milliner has come, and wants to try on your +bonnet,” said the servant girl.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span></p> + +<p>Mabel attended the summons and returned. Her +grief was too deep to permit her to participate in the +occupations of the sitting room, though her mother +was compelled to be there, and had been there all +night.</p> + +<p>“Please ma’am, the shopkeeper has come over with +some gloves, and they want you to pick out a pair,” +said the girl again.</p> + +<p>She had scarcely disposed of this matter before +another demanded her attention; and thus it was all +day long. The house was full of bustle and confusion. +The tailor, the hatter, the hosier, and a score of female +artisans were constantly coming and going.</p> + +<p>The solitude which her weeping heart craved was +denied her. On the morrow that loved form was to +be borne away and placed in the ground. They could +never behold it again; but from the hour that Mary +had breathed her last, to the arrival of the funeral +guests, she heard more of business, of the repulsive +details of dress and fashion, than of those more appropriate +words which solace the mourner in the hour +of trial.</p> + +<p>The mourning garments were completed; but when +Mabel was arrayed in them, they carried no comfort +to the heart. She could not even feel that the wearing +of them was a token of respect to her dead sister; +for they had robbed her of the blessed privilege of +weeping over her bier.</p> + +<p>More than once she recalled the uncharitable judgment +she had passed upon the Lawsons; but they had +been privileged to mourn without interruption over +their dead. The course they had chosen was reasonable; +and she could not but feel that if the heart +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>alone were consulted, it would not weep in nodding +plumes and sable weeds.</p> + +<p>Around the grave of Mary the devoted sister planted +the flowers she had loved so well, and every evening, +as the sun sank away, she placed a fresh bouquet upon +the green sod above her.</p> + +<p>And close by, the hand of affection strewed flowers +upon the grave of Ellen Lawson; and all summer long, +and when the chill winds of autumn swept the cemetery, +these floral offerings told the passer by that the +dead were remembered every day.</p> + +<p>Bring flowers! Scatter them upon the graves of +the dead; for they are a far more grateful tribute to +the memory of the departed, than all the trappings of +fashionable woe!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_DOMESTIC_ELEMENT"> + THE DOMESTIC ELEMENT. + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d00'><span class='upper-case'>“Julia</span> has been to the public schools long +enough,” said Mrs. Mason to her husband. +“She is fifteen years old, and I am sure she can +learn nothing more till she is sent to a boarding +school.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp63" id="i_086" style="max-width: 35.0625em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_086.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>“Nonsense!”</p> + +<p>“Besides, Mrs. Benson’s daughter has left, and +Julia don’t want to go any longer.”</p> + +<p>“Let her stay at home then.”</p> + +<p>“Stay at home! Don’t you mean she shall have +any polish?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span></p> + +<p>“Can’t you polish her, my dear?” asked the easy +husband, with a good-natured smile.</p> + +<p>“How absurdly you talk!”</p> + +<p>“Why, my dear, you have got quite polish enough +for the wife of a small merchant. I would not give +a copper to have you any more of a lady than you +are.”</p> + +<p>“But Julia may be the wife of a rich man; what +would she be then without music, French, and painting?”</p> + +<p>“And she may be the wife of a poor mechanic, +and these accomplishments be useless and burdensome.”</p> + +<p>“She never shall be the wife of a mechanic if I +can help it,” retorted Mrs. Mason, smartly.</p> + +<p>“Fie, Mary; you are unreasonable. Why should +she look higher than a mechanic, especially as some of +our best and most reputable men are mechanics?”</p> + +<p>“She shall not be the wife of a mechanic if I can +help it,” repeated the lady.</p> + +<p>“Why not?”</p> + +<p>“She shall do better, and that is the reason why I +want her better educated.”</p> + +<p>“She may do worse. What are we, my dear, that +we need look among the nabobs for a husband for our +daughter?”</p> + +<p>“Are you not a merchant?”</p> + +<p>“Only a small shopkeeper.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s a merchant; and I mean Julia shall +marry a merchant.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Mason yielded the point, and agreed that Julia +should marry whomsoever she and her mother might +choose.</p> + +<p>“But she must be educated for her future station.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span></p> + +<p>“True, she must.”</p> + +<p>“She must go to a boarding school, and learn +French, music, painting and German.”</p> + +<p>“And Chinese,” interposed Mr. Mason.</p> + +<p>“She must learn all the fashionable things.”</p> + +<p>“I believe English grammar, writing, and arithmetic +are not in fashion.”</p> + +<p>“Pooh! she knows all about these things.”</p> + +<p>“I asked her to tell me how many bushels of potatoes +a wagon seven feet long by four wide and +three high would contain, and she could not make the +first figure towards it.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose there was no such question in her +book.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not; and she could not tell me where +Sevastopol was—whether it was in China or the +Sandwich Islands.”</p> + +<p>“How foolish you are! I think likely she never +happened to see the place on the map.”</p> + +<p>“And that letter she wrote to her uncle was such +horrible grammar that I was ashamed to send it.”</p> + +<p>“No matter for that; she understands grammar +very well.”</p> + +<p>“May be she does; but she has an awkward way +of showing it. I suppose washing, cooking, and baking +are not fashionable either.”</p> + +<p>“There it is again.”</p> + +<p>“I think you would do better by her if you took +her into the kitchen, and taught her these things. If +she happens to marry a poor man, they will be of +some service to her.”</p> + +<p>“Time enough for these things.”</p> + +<p>“Well, well, do as you please; but I am opposed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span>to boarding schools; I think they do more harm than +good.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just like you! Opposed to boarding +schools! Who ever heard of such a thing?”</p> + +<p>“They spoil more young ladies than they ever +benefit.”</p> + +<p>“How in the world can it spoil them?”</p> + +<p>“Home is the place for girls. The first thing they +should be taught to love is the fireside; they ought +never to be weaned from it by sending them away to +undergo monastic discipline in a boarding school.”</p> + +<p>“How foolish!”</p> + +<p>“It gives them bad habits—makes them romantic—fills +their silly heads with moonshine; and if you +send Julia, ten to one she will run away with some +bearded puppy.”</p> + +<p>But it was no kind of use for Mr. Mason to argue +with his wife on such a topic as this; she was bent +on sending Julia to the boarding school. He was a +man of peace, and, rather than make a tempest, he +withdrew from the combat.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_7"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Julia Mason did not possess a very brilliant intellect. +Nature had never intended her for a “blue +stocking,” and, live as long as she might, there was +no probability that she would ever become even a +“strong minded woman.” She had for many years +attended one of the public schools, but had never +risen above the second class, and the master did not +believe she ever would.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span></p> + +<p>Yet, for all this, Julia was a good-hearted, generous, +whole souled girl. What Nature had neglected +to place in her head, she had beneficently put in her +heart. She had a nice, womanly, domestic temperament, +was quiet and unobtrusive in her manners, and, +without doubt, if no pains had been taken to spoil +her, would have made somebody a very loving, if not +a very brilliant wife.</p> + +<p>She was a little disposed to be romantic and sentimental—would +have fed well and thriven on moonshine—a +temperament which requires a great deal of +prudent management on the part of the parent or +guardian.</p> + +<p>Julia went to the boarding school; but she had +not been there three weeks before she wrote to her +mother, begging her to take her away, or she declared +she should certainly die.</p> + +<p>The poor girl was homesick. Monastic discipline +was an outrage upon her affectionate, domestic nature. +She had been accustomed to spend her evenings by +the fireside at home, with her parents and younger +brother and sisters; and it was a sad deprivation to +her to be driven, at the stroke of a bell, into her +chamber at seven o’clock, there to sit in painful silence +with her roommate, and study her lesson. She was not +a genius, and she hated study; it was uncongenial +in the highest degree.</p> + +<p>At nine o’clock, at the stroke of the bell, she must +retire, and in fifteen minutes her light must be put +out, or a black mark was made against her name on +the following day; and so it was all day long, week +in and week out. Her existence was odiously mechanical. +Her life was regulated by that everlasting stroke +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span>of the bell. She was obliged to do every thing by +rule—eat, drink, sleep, study, play, walk, by rule.</p> + +<p>It was unnatural, and her soul cried out within her +against such monstrous formality. She could not learn, +her heart grieved so under the repulsive mechanism of +her existence. Even the music lesson, which she had +anticipated with the liveliest pleasure, was gloomy and +distasteful. She was conscientious, and, though her +companions laughed at her for it, she at first paid the +most implicit obedience to the rules of the institution. +Her roommate devised various happy expedients for relieving +the tedium of their lives; but she refused to +avail herself of them.</p> + +<p>Her mother begged her to persevere for a time, +assuring her that she was only homesick—a disease +which a few weeks would effectually cure. She did +persevere; but her “chum” finally succeeded in +overcoming her conscientious scruples, and the evenings, +instead of being passed in study, were devoted +to a “good time generally.” It is true, Julia got +innumerable black marks for failures in her recitations; +but the horrible bugbears soon became so familiar that +they ceased to have any terrors. Before the first term +had expired, she had so completely weaned herself +from her domestic memories that home had lost all its +charms.</p> + +<p>She had learned a great many “new tricks.” Indeed, +the preceptor, in his report to her parents at +the close of her first term, felt it his duty to say +that her conduct had not been altogether satisfactory. +She had gone to the boarding school the quietest +person in the world; she returned a romp, her +head full of strange notions about lovers, and her +heart as washy as the moonshine in her head.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span></p> + +<p>On the first evening after her return home she insisted +on going to the opera; the second to a concert; +the third to the theatre; the fourth to a lecture; +the fifth to a party; the sixth to a conference +meeting; and so on every evening.</p> + +<p>“What in the world has got into you, Julia? +You did not use to be fond of ‘kiting’ round in +this manner,” said the astonished Mrs. Mason.</p> + +<p>“O mother, it is so insufferably dull at home! Besides, +it is not fashionable to stay at home in the +evening,” drawled Julia.</p> + +<p>“What <i>has</i> got into you?”</p> + +<p>“Boarding schools,” said Mr. Mason.</p> + +<p>“I should die of <i>ennui</i> to stay at home an evening,” +continued the daughter, with a languishing +sigh.</p> + +<p>“You had better give her a lesson on the pots and +kettles now,” interrupted Mr. Mason.</p> + +<p>“O papa, how cruel you are! Pray go to the +opera with me.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Mason was an indulgent papa, and he was +obliged to go; but he could not help wondering what +Julia would finally come to, if she was permitted to +go on in this manner.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_5"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Julia returned to the boarding school, and in spite +of the weak efforts of her father to avert the fashionable +fate that awaited her, she continued there for +nearly two years. In music and painting she made +rapid progress; but in literature and science she +failed to make even a decent proficiency.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span></p> + +<p>She was an altered creature. She was vain, affected, +romantic, and transcendental, cherishing all sorts of visionary +notions about life, and especially about lovers +and husbands, who filled a long space in her daily +meditations. She had lost her domestic nature, +and that was the saddest loss of all. Her heart was +not actually corrupted; but it was so buried up in +the weeds of vanity and folly, that its gentle influence +was almost entirely lost upon her life and +character. If not unsexed, she had lost that hold +upon woman’s sphere which confers her chief charm +in society. She was a creature for the ball room and +the opera, and not for the quiet shades of home.</p> + +<p>Perhaps a boarding school does not always make +such sad havoc in the mind and heart of the young +female; but such is the tendency of its artificial +manner of existence. Monastic discipline spoils woman; +it removes her from, and unfits her for, her +social, domestic position.</p> + +<p>When the two years had nearly expired, Mr. Mason +one day received a letter from the principal of the +seminary, containing the astounding intelligence that +Julia had eloped with a young gentleman who had +come from the city on a visit in the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>“The grand <i>finale</i> of the drama,” said Mr. Mason, +throwing the letter to his wife.</p> + +<p>“Good Heaven! who is this Mr. Winchel?” exclaimed +Mrs. Mason, when she had read the letter.</p> + +<p>“A son of Winchel, the merchant in —— Street.”</p> + +<p>“Rich?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Thank God it is no worse!” replied Mrs. Mason, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>so far relieved that a pleasant smile played upon +her lips.</p> + +<p>A few days after, Julia and her husband presented +themselves at the home of her father. They were +received with open arms. Mrs. Mason was too much +pleased with the match to make a fuss about it, and +Mr. Mason followed his wife’s “lead.”</p> + +<p>A few weeks after, they were comfortably settled +in a pleasant house; for Mr. Winchel, who had some +very clearly defined aspirations for the quiet joys of +a fireside of his own, insisted upon going to housekeeping +instead of boarding.</p> + +<p>This kind of life was novel to Julia, and for the +first six months, while her husband consented to take +her every evening to the opera, a ball, party, or concert, +she was tolerably contented.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Winchel got sick of such an incessant +round of amusement, and sighed for that paradise of +home which his imagination had years ago painted. +He reasoned with his giddy wife; but she hated +home, and reproached him for attempting to imprison +her in the house, and thus make her life miserable.</p> + +<p>Mr. Winchel was firm, and positively refused to go +to any more operas, balls, parties, or concerts.</p> + +<p>Julia was forced to accede to his reasonable desires; +but home, even in the presence of her husband, +had become an intolerable place. Indeed, the +romance of a husband had worn itself away. He had fallen +in love with her in the most natural way in the +world, and had proposed to wait upon her father, +and arrange the preliminaries for their marriage; +but Julia was not content to be united to him in +such a tame manner as that, and insisted upon an +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span>elopement. Her lover gratified her—to his sorrow, +he now discovered.</p> + +<p>Julia was unhappy. Her husband, disgusted at her +folly, returned to the club he had abandoned when he +married her, leaving her to comfort or amuse herself +as best she might. And she found comfort and amusement +in the society of a gay and dashing Lothario, +who consoled her for her husband’s absence by making +love to her. It was not long before the world +was again astonished by the publication of an elopement—not +a harmless, sentimental affair, but a criminal +elopement.</p> + +<p>Julia was too romantic to consider the moral turpitude +of the act. The pious preaching and praying of +the boarding school, had been lost upon her in the +variety of more congenial topics that were there presented +to her. The elopement was romance; she +thought not of the crime.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mason and his wife were in the deepest distress. +Mr. Winchel called at her father’s store, and +stated the particulars of their domestic experience. +It was plain to both that the distaste for home was +traceable to the loss of the domestic element of the +misguided wife.</p> + +<p>Julia and her seducer—we wrong him—both were +guilty—were heard from in New Orleans; but the +villain soon became tired of her whims, and left her, +and she died a few years later, a ruined, abandoned, +off-cast creature, the victim of a false education.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mason’s remaining daughters were not sent to +the boarding school. They received the best education +to be had in the city, and there are noted institutions +of learning there. They were thus kept constantly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>under the watchful care of their parents, and the domestic +element in their natures was not unsettled by +absence from home, while the plastic mind was being +moulded into its shape for life.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="BANG_UP"> + “BANG UP!” + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>OR</span>, + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>THE RESULTS OF ADVERTISING.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<img class="drop-cap w67" src="images/i_097.jpg" alt="A" style="max-width: 32em;"> + +<p class='drop-cap d10'><span class='upper-case'>“Any</span> thing over, +Ben?”</p> + +<p>“Not a dollar; +I just paid +the Journal’s +bill for advertising, +which +has pretty +much cleaned +me out.”</p> + +<p>“How much?”</p> + +<p>“Forty-two dollars and twenty-five cents.”</p> + +<p>“Ben, I don’t like to tell you that you are the +biggest fool on the street; but you are.”</p> + +<p>“Wait, Joe, and see,” returned the other, with a +confident smile.</p> + +<p>“Forty-two dollars for advertising!”</p> + +<p>“Just so, and for three months’ advertising.”</p> + +<p>The applicant for “any thing over” gave a peculiar +whistle to define the length, breadth, and depth of +his astonishment.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span></p> + +<p>This conversation occurred in the store of Benjamin +Weston, a young and enterprising merchant, who had +just commenced business on his own account. The +other person, who to use his own classic expression, +was “bang up,” and wanted to borrow fifty dollars +to make up the amount of a note due that day, was +Joseph Weston, a cousin of the other. They had been +playmates in youth and stanch friends in maturity. +Though there was a great diversity of opinion on many +topics, a strong sympathy existed between them.</p> + +<p>They had commenced business at about the same +time, and under nearly the same circumstances, both +being obliged for the want of sufficient capital to +mortgage the stock in their respective stores.</p> + +<p>Thus far they had done well, and the prospect was +that both would become wealthy and distinguished +merchants.</p> + +<p>They had married sisters, and occupied tenements +in the same block. Their houses were furnished in +substantially the same style, and with no material +difference of expenditure. Both had been brought up +to business habits, and educated into the principles of +a rigid economy.</p> + +<p>“Forty-two dollars for advertising,” repeated Joe.</p> + +<p>“And if I had the money to spare, I would spend +double that sum,” replied Benjamin.</p> + +<p>“What benefit do you expect to realize from it?”</p> + +<p>“You are behind the times, Joe. Benefit! What +a question! I expect to make my fortune by it.”</p> + +<p>“Humbug!”</p> + +<p>“Look at Brandeth and Swaim.”</p> + +<p>“Both humbugs.”</p> + +<p>“No matter for that; if these fellows have been +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>able to make princely fortunes by advertising humbugs, +how much more so will he who deals in substantial +realities!”</p> + +<p>“All gammon!”</p> + +<p>“We differ; time will tell who is in the right.”</p> + +<p>“Seriously, Ben, you will ruin yourself if you go +on in this manner. Forty-two dollars a quarter for +advertising!”</p> + +<p>“I shall spend a hundred the next quarter.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t do it, Ben.”</p> + +<p>“How does it happen, Joe, that you are in the +street borrowing money? I never did such a thing +since I commenced business.”</p> + +<p>“How does it happen, Ben, that you haven’t got +any money to lend?” asked Joe, with a smile.</p> + +<p>“Because I spent it in advertising.”</p> + +<p>“Better have spent it for opera and 2:40’s.”</p> + +<p>“Wait, Joe, wait.”</p> + +<p>“I spent nothing for advertising; but I will bet +you the oysters my sales for the last quarter are as +large as yours.”</p> + +<p>“I will take you up on the next quarter.”</p> + +<p>“Why not the last.”</p> + +<p>“Advertising is somewhat like planting potatoes; +you must wait for the crops.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t believe in it, Ben. When I have a fifty +spot that I don’t know what to do with, I shall put +it into my family. Buy a library, a new sofa, or +something of that sort. I should rather go to the +White Mountains with it, than throw it away upon +newspapers.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t know your own interest, Joe.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t I? Some kinds of business might thrive on +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span>advertising; but ours, never. Do you believe the +women look in the newspapers before they go shopping?”</p> + +<p>“Well, there was a lady in here just now, who +said she saw such and such goods advertised by me.”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! and on the strength of that you intend to +spend fifty dollars more in advertising! Ben, you are +crazy;” and Joseph Weston turned his heel and left +the store, assured in his own mind that his friend was +going to ruin.</p> + +<p>In his estimation such loose principles would eventually +bring him to bankruptcy. But Ben was his +friend, and he deeply commiserated him because he +clung to such weak and pernicious doctrines.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_8"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Business prospered with the young men. By prudent +and careful management, each had not only made +a living, but had been able to pay a small portion of +the mortgage on the stock, at the end of the first +year.</p> + +<p>Joseph had the advantage of his friend in possessing +a better location, and though his rent was somewhat +higher, the difference was more than compensated +by the increased facilities it afforded him. The +prospect was decidedly bright to him. If his business +increased as it had done, he would be enabled to clear +himself of debt in another year.</p> + +<p>Under this encouraging aspect he ventured to expend +a hundred dollars in additions to his furniture, which +his wife insisted was absolutely necessary for their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span>comfort and happiness. The house had been furnished +altogether too plain for this progressive age in her +estimation. She was behind some of her friends who, +she was sure, were doing no better than her husband.</p> + +<p>Joseph was a little obstinate at first; but then there +was something so decidedly comfortable in a set of +stuffed chairs and a lounge, that he did not hold out +in his opposition. He was doing well, and the expenditure +would not seriously embarrass him.</p> + +<p>With a nice new Brussels carpet and the new furniture, +Mrs. Weston’s little parlor looked exceedingly +pleasant and comfortable. Besides, it looked as though +her husband was prospering in his business.</p> + +<p>It was so very nice that the young wife could not +bear the idea of having the parlor shut up, so that no +one should see it till the furniture had grown rusty; +consequently she made up her mind that they must +have a party.</p> + +<p>Their friends had parties; why shouldn’t they? It +looked stingy not to have one. Mrs. Weston was an +eloquent debater, and she gained the day in this matter. +It is true the party was not a very extravagant +affair; but it cost Joe some fifty dollars. In the meantime +Benjamin had paid quite as much for advertising +as his friend had for new furniture and the party. +Joseph laughed at him, and finally came to believe +that he was insane, and would certainly come to ruin +in another year.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ben Weston, too, felt decidedly unpleasant +about the improvements which had been going on in +her sister’s house.</p> + +<p>“Why can’t we have a rosewood table and a set +of stuffed chairs, Benjamin?” asked she, pouting her +pretty lips into a very unamiable position.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span></p> + +<p>“Simply, my dear, because I cannot afford it,” replied +the philosophical merchant.</p> + +<p>“How can Joe afford it?”</p> + +<p>“I presume he knows his business best.”</p> + +<p>“He has put over a hundred dollars into his house.”</p> + +<p>Ben whistled “T’other side of Jordan,” and made +no reply.</p> + +<p>“Do, Ben, buy some new chairs.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t afford it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you can.”</p> + +<p>“No, I can’t.”</p> + +<p>“<i>You</i> can afford it as well as Joe.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I can.”</p> + +<p>“Do buy some.”</p> + +<p>“I should be very glad to gratify you, but I cannot +take the money from my business. A year hence, if +business prospers with me, you shall have them.”</p> + +<p>“A year hence,” pouted the wife.</p> + +<p>“I must spend a hundred dollars in advertising the +next quarter.”</p> + +<p>“How foolish!”</p> + +<p>“Very foolish, my dear; but it must be done.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the way you throw your money away. You +don’t catch Joe to do such a trick as that.”</p> + +<p>“True; but though he has the advantage of having +a corner store, I paid three hundred dollars more on +my mortgage note than he did.”</p> + +<p>“Then you can afford the table and chairs.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, my dear, I will not spend a dollar for superfluities +while I am in debt.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ben Weston felt very bad about it, but her +husband was firm, and she was forced to content herself +with the plain furniture.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Joe Weston enjoyed her nice parlor till the +novelty wore away, and then she discovered that there +were a great many other articles wanted to make things +look uniform. The two windows must have drapery +curtains, a pier glass was needed, and some pictures +were wanted to relieve the walls. Her husband, who +had once exceeded the limits of his means, found no +great difficulty in doing so again, and the things were +bought.</p> + +<p>But Joe had some scruples about it. His notes began +to be troublesome, and every day he was in the +street borrowing money. His business, too, had not +met his expectations. Instead of increasing in the +ratio of his first year’s experience, it hardly held its +own, and the poor fellow began to have some serious +misgivings about the future.</p> + +<p>Before the year had half expired, he was obliged to +introduce a rigid system of retrenchment into his +family and business affairs, in order to keep his expenses +within his means.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_6"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Another year had passed away in the business experience +of the young merchants. The books had +been balanced, and the results stood in black and +white before them.</p> + +<p>Ben had followed up his system of advertising +through the year. He had expended large sums, but +had made the outlay with judgment and discretion.</p> + +<p>The result exceeded his most sanguine expectations. +His store was crowded with customers; with genuine, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span><i>bona fide</i> customers, and with but a small proportion +of gadders and fancy shoppers. The newspapers had +borne to the best families in the city and country +full descriptions of his stock. His name was as familiar +as “household words” in the dwellings of the rich +and poor, of the farmer, the mechanic, and the laborer.</p> + +<p>Truly, the harvest was abundant, and Ben rubbed +his hands with delight as he cast his eyes over the figures +which conveyed to him the pleasing results of +his year’s operations. He had the means, not only of +clearing himself of debt, but also of gratifying his +wife by giving her all the new furniture she required, +besides a handsome surplus with which to increase his +business.</p> + +<p>The new furniture was bought and set up; every +debt was discharged, and the importers and jobbers +were eager to give him unlimited credit.</p> + +<p>One day, while he was ruminating upon this pleasant +state of things, Joe Weston entered the store. +For some months past, the intercourse between the +young merchants had not been as cordial as formerly. +Joe’s nice things had rather “set him up;” some of +the upper ten had condescended to visit him; and he +had attended the “Almack” parties with his wife.</p> + +<p>He was getting ahead fast in his own estimation, +and cherished a supreme contempt for the slow motion +of his friend. But when, in the middle of the year, +he found himself running down hill, and discovered +that Ben’s store was crowded with shoppers, while his +own was empty, a feeling of envy took possession of +him. Ben must be underselling, he concluded, and +sooner or latter the consequences would appear.</p> + +<p>The prosperous merchant could not but notice the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>sad and dejected mien of his friend, as he entered the +store.</p> + +<p>“How are you, Joe? You are almost a stranger, +lately. Where do you keep yourself?” said Ben.</p> + +<p>“Business, Ben; business!” replied Joe, demurely.</p> + +<p>“Good! Business before pleasure.”</p> + +<p>“Any thing over to-day?” asked Joe; but the +query was not put in that buoyant, elastic tone, which +had distinguished him in former times.</p> + +<p>“A trifle; how much do you want?” returned +Ben, promptly.</p> + +<p>“To tell the truth, I am ‘bang up.’ I have got a +note of four hundred to pay, and I have not yet raised +the first dollar towards it.”</p> + +<p>“You are late; it is half past one now,” replied +Ben, consulting his watch.</p> + +<p>“Ben, I am in a tight place,” said Joe, in a low, +solemn tone.</p> + +<p>“Indeed! I am sorry to hear it,” and Ben’s face +wore an expression of sincere sympathy. “Nothing +serious, I hope?”</p> + +<p>“I am afraid so.”</p> + +<p>“What can I do for you?” and the young merchant +took down his check book, and examined the +state of his bank account.</p> + +<p>“I can give you a check for three hundred, if that +will do you any good,” continued he, taking up the +pen to fill out the blank.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Ben; you are very kind; but I don’t +know as I ought to take it.”</p> + +<p>“Not take it! Why not?”</p> + +<p>“If I should pay this note, there is hardly a possibility +that I could get through the month.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span></p> + +<p>“So bad as that? ’Pon my soul, I am sorry to +hear it.”</p> + +<p>“Smith and Jones advise me to make an assignment.”</p> + +<p>“How does it happen? I thought you were doing +well?”</p> + +<p>“Business has been very dull for the last six months. +Haven’t you found it so?”</p> + +<p>“Well, no; it has been driving with me.”</p> + +<p>Joe knew it had; indeed, his present visit was not +to borrow money, but to prepare his friend for the +“smash,” which was now unavoidable.</p> + +<p>“My sales have been light,” continued he; “I can’t +account for it.”</p> + +<p>“I can; look here, Joe.”</p> + +<p>Ben took down his ledger, and pointed to the account +“Charges,” where the sums paid for advertising had +been entered. On a slip of paper he had footed them +up.</p> + +<p>“Five hundred and sixty-five dollars for advertising, +Joe! That’s what did the business.”</p> + +<p>Joe was astonished. It was quite as much as he +had paid for fine things for his house, and for parties, +and the opera; but the investment had been vastly +more profitable, inasmuch as, taken in connection with +his careful management of his business and his economical +manner of living it had laid the foundation of his +future fortune. It had given him a good start in business, +and a good beginning is half the battle.</p> + +<p>Joe Weston failed, and paid only twenty cents on +a dollar. His fine furniture was all sold, and he was +obliged to board out. But in his extremity Ben was +his true friend. He received him into his house, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>when his business was settled up, took him into partnership.</p> + +<p>The firm is now one of the most respectable and +prosperous in the city. Joe, ever since he was “bang +up,” believes in advertising, and any one who opens +the Journal, or, indeed, any of the daily papers, cannot +fail to notice the conspicuous advertisement of +“Weston & Co.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_NEW_CLOAK"> + THE NEW CLOAK; + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>OR</span>, + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>“MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS.”</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<img class="drop-cap w67" src="images/i_108.jpg" alt="Y" style="max-width: 30em;"> + +<p class='drop-cap d10'><span class='upper-case'>“There!</span> I declare, +if Mrs. +Burton hasn’t +got a new cloak!” +exclaimed Mrs. +Waxwell to her +intimate friend, +Miss Viney, as +they came out of church one Sunday.</p> + +<p>“I see she has,” replied Miss Viney, very quietly.</p> + +<p>“I know her husband can’t afford it; she will be +the ruin of him yet.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose they know their own business best. At +any rate, it is a blessing that you and I are not accountable +for her misdeeds,” said Miss Viney, who, +though what is technically termed an “old maid,” +was not of that class who have been slanderously +styled gossips and busybodies; and we have purposely +introduced her to refute the foul calumny that +“old maids” are all meddlers, and we are sure that +all spinsters will be grateful to us for the service.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span></p> + +<p>“I don’t know about that,” returned Mrs. Waxwell, +with a dubious shake of the head. “Mr. Burton +owes my husband three hundred dollars, and I +don’t believe he will ever get his pay if things go +on in this way. That cloak couldn’t have cost less +than thirty dollars.”</p> + +<p>“I presume they could afford it, or they would not +have bought it. At any rate, they ought to know +best.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Burton is a vain, conceited, proud woman, +and pride will have a fall one of these days.”</p> + +<p>“I hope not.”</p> + +<p>“I hope she will have a fall; she would drop some +of those airs then.”</p> + +<p>“I never thought she was what might be termed a +vain woman.”</p> + +<p>“She is; she is an impudent minx, and the sooner +she is brought down to a level with her circumstances, +the better for her and the world.”</p> + +<p>“She has the reputation of being a very kind-hearted +person and an excellent neighbor.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care if she has; she likes to ‘lord’ it +through the village, and for one I won’t be ruled by +her.”</p> + +<p>“Really, I do not understand you; she is as amiable +and humble as any one need be.”</p> + +<p>“Amiable and humble indeed! What did she buy +that new cloak for except to excite the envy of half +the town, and make them think she is somebody?”</p> + +<p>“I hope there is no one so silly as to envy her;” +and Miss Viney cast a significant glance full into the +face of her companion.</p> + +<p>“I don’t, for one; but I should like to teach her +that she is no better than the rest of the world.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span></p> + +<p>“She don’t profess to be; she visits the neighborhood; +and I’m sure there is no better person in sickness +than she is.”</p> + +<p>“All that may be.”</p> + +<p>“When you had the erysipelas, you remember she +watched with you when no one else would.”</p> + +<p>“I know it; but is one to be tyrannized over forever +because she watched a few nights with me?”</p> + +<p>“How strange you talk!”</p> + +<p>“Do I? Didn’t she buy that cloak on purpose to +cut a figure through the town, and make every body +feel cheap?”</p> + +<p>“No, I am sure she did not; she had no such motive,” +replied Miss Viney, smartly.</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe it, there!”</p> + +<p>“She is not such a woman as that.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, she is, just such a woman as that.”</p> + +<p>“I have seen no one but you who feels bad about +it.”</p> + +<p>“But me! Lor’ sake! I wouldn’t have you think +<i>I</i> feel bad about it. She can wear what she’s a mind +to for all me; only I hope she can afford it—that’s +all.”</p> + +<p>“I think she can; she has the reputation of being +a pretty careful woman.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care; but I feel it my duty to warn my +husband to look out about his debt. When folks get +to be so awful extravagant, there’s no knowing what +may happen.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Burton is doing a very good business, people +say.”</p> + +<p>“Nobody knows any thing about what he is doing. +All I know is, that when Squire Smith sold him two +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>cords of wood last week, and carried in the bill, he +couldn’t pay it. He actually put the squire off till +next week. That looks as though they could afford +thirty dollar cloaks, don’t it?”</p> + +<p>With these sage reflections, Mrs. Waxwell turned +down the lane that led to her home, leaving Miss +Viney to pursue her way and ponder the extravagance +of “some folks.”</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_9"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Mrs. Waxwell loved fine clothes quite as much as +any other woman of the nineteenth century, and this +is saying a great deal; but then her husband was +parsimonious, and she was parsimonious; and, though +she loved “nice things” very much, she loved money +more, which, we take it, amounts to nothing more nor +less than meanness.</p> + +<p>Mr. Waxwell was a farmer, and well off in the +world. The advent of the railroad into his native +town had turned things topsy-turvy in general, and +“put the devil into the women” in particular, to use +Mr. Waxwell’s classic language. Time was when they +were content to wear a straw bonnet and a calico +gown to meeting; but now they had to rig out in +silks and satins, with flounces and furbelows, and all +sorts of rigging hitched to ’em, for all the world just +like a clown in the circus. Such were Mr. Waxwell’s +views of the social influence of the railroad.</p> + +<p>Society began to be a little “select;” folks put +on airs, and were so “stuck up” that you couldn’t +touch them with a ten foot pole.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span></p> + +<p>Farmer Waxwell did not much like this state of +things; it cost money on the one hand, and he did +not like to be thrown into the shade on the other. +He was about the richest man in the place; but ten +dollar bonnets and thirty dollar cloaks were abominations +that he could not tolerate. Mrs. Waxwell didn’t +like to be outdone in the matter of dress, and when +she bought a new merino cloak the previous season, +she had not a doubt but it would be unsurpassed for +two seasons at least. When Mrs. Burton came out +with the thirty dollar velvet, she found the wind was +taken entirely out of her sail, and she was as indignant +as the case demanded.</p> + +<p>In the rise and progress of the village since the +advent of the railroad, two new stores had gone into +operation, one of which was conducted by Mr. Burton, +an enterprising young man from the metropolis, +who had brought a city wife and a great many city +notions into the place with him.</p> + +<p>As with a great many who go from the city to the +country, he was exceedingly annoyed by that disinterested, +charitable attention to other people’s business +which so extensively prevails in many rural districts. +He kept his affairs to himself, and this bothered +and perplexed the gossips. His wife had a way +of attending to her own concerns; she had been +brought up where people do not even know their next +door neighbors. If she wanted a new dress or a new +bonnet, she never deemed it necessary to consult the +neighbors in regard to her ability to afford it, or +about the style and material.</p> + +<p>But, in spite of these peculiarities, she was a popular +person in the village. She was amiable and kind +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>to all, a friend and a comforter to the sick, and quite +a useful person in the society of the place. She understood +matters and things, had a larger experience +of the world than those who had seen nothing of it; +and the consequence was, that when a party was to +be given, a picnic projected, or a ball got up, she +was consulted, and her advice followed. She understood +all these things, and was happy to explain the +“fashion” in regard to them to all who asked her +counsel.</p> + +<p>Poor Mrs. Waxwell! Her star began to decline +when Mrs. Burton came to the village. She was no +longer the leader of the <i>ton</i>, and her heart was bursting +with envy. Though she had often received the +kind offices of the storekeeper’s wife, both in sickness +and in health, she would willingly have crushed +her. That new cloak was the capsheaf of the indignities +which she fancied had been heaped upon her, +and she determined that her unconscious rival should +suffer the consequences of her temerity.</p> + +<p>Her first demonstration was upon her husband, whom +she found no difficulty in convincing that Mr. Burton +must be ruined by the extravagance of his wife, and +that, unless he immediately collected his debt, he would +certainly lose it.</p> + +<p>As soon as she had done her washing on Monday, +she “made some calls,” and embraced the opportunity +of commenting freely upon that new cloak. The +women told their husbands that Mr. Burton would +certainly fail; and before three days had elapsed +there was quite a ferment in the place.</p> + +<p>Nobody knew any thing about Mr. Burton’s affairs; +he seemed to be doing a good business, though no +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>one knew of his having any money. He did not +even own the house in which he lived; he had no +property, apparently, but his stock. The careful old +farmers, to whom in the course of trade he had become +indebted for produce which he sent to Boston, +began to be alarmed by these rumors.</p> + +<p>It was in the State of New Hampshire; and at +the time of which I write, the “grab law” was in +force, and is still, for aught I know.</p> + +<p>One morning, as Mr. Burton returned from a journey +to a neighboring town, he found his stock attached +on the claim of Farmer Waxwell, and all on account +of that new cloak which his wife had worn to meeting +on the preceding Sunday.</p> + +<p>He had not the means to pay the note at that moment, +and while he was considering a plan to +extricate himself from the dilemma, the news that his +goods had been attached spread all over the place. +All the creditors were in hot haste to follow the track +of Farmer Waxwell; for it was “first come, first +served,” and in less than two hours a dozen had +fastened upon the stock of his store.</p> + +<p>This was a tremendous result to follow in the train +of a thirty dollar cloak and a gossiping old woman.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_7"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>“What do you think now, Miss Viney?” asked +Mrs. Waxwell, as they met, soon after the storekeeper’s +disaster had been made public.</p> + +<p>“I hope Mr. Burton will be able to pay his debts.”</p> + +<p>“But he won’t—I know he won’t.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span></p> + +<p>“Probably, if they had given him any notice of +their intention to demand the payment of their claims, +he would have been prepared to meet them.”</p> + +<p>“I guess Mrs. Burton will not feel quite so stuck +up after this.”</p> + +<p>“I hope <i>you</i> have done nothing to bring about this +sad result.”</p> + +<p>“But I have; I made my husband sue his note, +and when he put on, the others did. Thirty dollar +cloak indeed!”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry you have done this; you may ruin +Mr. Burton by it.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just what I mean to do!” and Mrs. Waxwell’s +malignant expression betrayed the jealousy she +had so long harbored.</p> + +<p>“You did? It was very unkind and ungrateful in +you to do so,” replied Miss Viney, indignantly.</p> + +<p>“Humph!”</p> + +<p>“Any trader would be likely to come out badly to +have all his creditors pounce upon him without giving +him a chance to collect his debts.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe he has any to collect.”</p> + +<p>“Even your husband, as well off as he is, might +be embarrassed if suddenly called upon to pay his +debts;” and Miss Viney looked significantly at her +angry companion.</p> + +<p>“I doubt it.”</p> + +<p>“He may have a trial,” said the maiden lady, as +she moved towards the store.</p> + +<p>“What can she mean by that?” thought Mrs. +Waxwell.</p> + +<p>Miss Viney had some property of her own, and it +was all in the hands of Farmer Waxwell, who had, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>on his own account, invested the greater part of it +in railroad stock.</p> + +<p>This is what she meant. She would claim the three +thousand dollars her husband owed her, and a cold +chill passed through her veins as the thought struck +her. Farmer Waxwell was rich in houses, lands, and +stocks, all of which yielded him a good income; but +he had not three thousand dollars in money, and it +might cost him some trouble to raise it.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>“Don’t cry, my dear; I have enough due me in +Boston to pay these debts ten times over,” said Mr. +Burton to his wife, who was much alarmed by the +storm which threatened them.</p> + +<p>“What will people think?”</p> + +<p>“What will they think when I pay them all? The +whole amount is not above nine hundred dollars.”</p> + +<p>Just then Miss Viney entered the house. In a few +words, she explained the circumstances which had led +to the sudden “strike” among the creditors.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Burton, kind soul, shed a flood of tears when +she heard how cruel Mrs. Waxwell had been—she +whom she had nursed with all the tenderness of a +mother, when her frightened neighbors fled from the +contagious disease.</p> + +<p>“Never mind it, my dear. We may expect any +thing from a meddler, a gossip, a slanderer,” said +Mr. Burton. “I must start for Boston in the noon +train.”</p> + +<p>“Allow me, Mr. Burton, to offer you the money to +discharge these liabilities. I have three thousand dollars +in the hands of Mr. Waxwell.”</p> + +<p>“You are very kind, and I accept your offer,” replied +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>Mr. Burton, “and next week I shall have the +means of repaying you. I assure you I am worth at +least five thousand dollars.”</p> + +<p>In proof of his assertion, he showed her various +notes, mortgages, and certificates of stock.</p> + +<p>“I presume, if the people here knew that I was not +a bankrupt, they would not have molested me. In +spite of all my amiable neighbor, Mrs. Waxwell, may +say, I think I am abundantly able to give my wife a +thirty dollar cloak.”</p> + +<p>“I never doubted it,” replied Miss Viney, as she +hastened to the village lawyer to put her note in +course of collection.</p> + +<p>Farmer Waxwell was at dinner when the lawyer, +who was a personal friend, called upon him.</p> + +<p>“Sorry to trouble you, but I am instructed to collect +this note,” said he.</p> + +<p>“The devil!” exclaimed Farmer Waxwell.</p> + +<p>“The ugly hussy!” added Mrs. Waxwell, as she +perceived that Miss Viney’s prophetic words had been +burdened with a meaning.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, madam,” said the lawyer; +“but if I understand it rightly, you have publicly +boasted that you brought about all this difficulty.”</p> + +<p>“I?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, madam: that new cloak did the business. +You set your husband on, and all the rest followed +him; so Miss Viney tells me.”</p> + +<p>“My gracious!”</p> + +<p>“And now she wants the money to assist Mr. Burton +out of the difficulty into which you have plunged +him.”</p> + +<p>“That’s plain speech, squire,” said the farmer.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span></p> + +<p>“But true.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t raise the money.”</p> + +<p>“Then I must sue.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t we compromise?”</p> + +<p>“Burton is worth at least five thousand dollars, and +when he gets a remittance from Boston, will pay all.”</p> + +<p>“I will dissolve my attachment, and be bound for +the payment of the others. Will that do it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, if Miss Viney will consent.”</p> + +<p>Miss Viney did consent,—she was a kind-hearted +lady—and the matter was compromised.</p> + +<p>“Now, wife,” said Farmer Waxwell, on the following +week, as he put the three hundred dollars in his +pocket which Burton had paid, minus thirty which he +held in his hand, “here’s thirty dollars, and I think +you’d better go and buy one of them ’ere cloaks. +Your foolish envy like to have got me into the cu’sedest +scrape I ever got into in my life.”</p> + +<p>She would not take it; she was too mean to dress +well herself, and too envious to permit others who +were able to do so in peace. But she gathered from +the events of our story a healthy experience of the +wisdom of that excellent maxim.—“<span class="smcap">Mind your own business.</span>”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="EVERY_THING_COMFORTABLE"> + “EVERY THING COMFORTABLE.” + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d00'><span class='upper-case'>“You</span> have every thing comfortable, Maria,” said +Mrs. Belladonna Buttercup, to her sister-in-law, +Mrs. Sparrow, at whose house she was making a +visit; “every thing <i>comfortable</i>.”</p> + +<p>The speaker placed a very significant emphasis upon +the last word, which, in connection with her peculiar +tone of voice, and the half apparent sneer on her lips, +was equivalent to saying, “You have all that is absolutely +necessary to make your house habitable; you +have beds, and chairs, and tables, but your furniture +is of the most ordinary description—plain, cheap, and +old-fashioned. It would not suit me.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Belladonna Buttercup was a New York lady; +that is to say, she had formerly been a shop girl in +Boston, and, having considerable talent at diplomacy, +had captivated the senses of a dry goods clerk on +four hundred dollars salary, become Mrs. Buttercup, +and moved to New York. She was an ambitious person, +and though she had been brought up in a ten +footer in an obscure street, she earnestly desired to +become what is technically called a “lady.” Fashion +was her god. To dress well, to live in a fine house, +furnished <i>a la mode</i>, and to move in fashionable society +constituted her highest ideal of human happiness.</p> + +<p>Mr. Buttercup entertained similar views. It is true, +he was only a poor clerk when he married,—he had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>married to redeem his wife from the drudgery of her +occupation,—and when he went to New York he had +a hard struggle to support her, even in a five dollar +boarding house. At the end of a year, circumstances +so favored him that he was enabled to go into business +on his own account. In a small shop, which his +former employer stocked for him, taking a mortgage +with interest at the rate of twenty per cent. per annum, +he rushed boldly into the stream, assured it +would bear him to opulence and an influential position +in society.</p> + +<p>Fortune favored him, and the first year showed a +gain of a thousand dollars. The young man was +elated, and having lived within his means, he had a +considerable surplus on his hands. Taking a larger +store and employing two additional clerks, he commenced +his second year. He was the biggest man on +Broadway; talked magnificently about his business +operations, and innocently magnified his last year’s +profits to five thousand dollars. Things looked so +promising with him that the importers and jobbers +gave him all the credit he desired. Mr. Buttercup +was perfectly satisfied that he was on the high road +to fortune. As Richelieu says in the play, there was +no such word as “fail” in his vocabulary.</p> + +<p>Of course, a five dollar boarding house could no +longer be tolerated, and to Mrs. Buttercup’s inexpressible +satisfaction, her husband engaged a room in +a fashionable establishment “up town.” It was only +one room, and Mr. B. had contracted to pay twenty +dollars a week for it, washing and “sundries” extra. +The ambitious lady went a shopping a few days after, +and contrived to get rid of a hundred dollars, which +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span>the complacent shopkeeper in an impulsive moment +had placed in her hands. Milliners and dressmakers +were in demand for a time, and Mrs. Buttercup’s +present ambition was fully satisfied. It is true, she +could see in the distance an establishment of her own, +with imported carpets and mirrors, with a train of +liveried servants, a carriage with the Buttercup arms +blazoned on its panels; and a faint whisper from the +admiring crowd, “There goes the elegant Mrs. Buttercup!” +reached her ears. The future was full of +glorious visions, full of royal splendors, full of every +thing that the heart of vanity could conceive. But for +the present, she was satisfied.</p> + +<p>Things went on swimmingly at the new store, and +when Mrs. Buttercup proposed a tour to the east, her +husband readily assented. Our lady of magnificent +aspirations had considerable difficulty in deciding +whether she should propose Saratoga or home for the +summer excursion. On the one hand, Saratoga was +fashionable, and she would have abundant opportunity +to make the acquaintance of the exclusives. But on +the other hand, if she went home, she could create a +tremendous sensation among her own and her husband’s +friends and relatives. She could carry the New York +fashions among them; could astonish them with a display +of her elegant silk, made by Madam Hippolyta +Hyfalutin, from Paris, and her splendid new bonnet +from the celebrated rooms of Madam Hesperiana +Blomereaux, also from Paris. These things would +scarcely be noticed by the fashionable of Saratoga—the +absence of them alone would make a noise there.</p> + +<p>And then her husband’s glorious prospects in the dry +goods line, as well as the immense business he at +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>present transacted—it would be so delightful to hear +Tim tell them all about it! How his old father’s eyes +would stick out when he heard his son talk about a +hundred thousand dollars so beautifully and so indifferently; +how he would open his mouth with wonder, +when Tim should tell him that the firm of Funk, Hunk, +and Co.—the most extensive dry goods establishment +in New York—had offered him three thousand dollars +salary to superintend their retail department, and how +indignantly he had rejected the offer. Tim had such +a graceful way of telling these things; indeed, she +knew that he could make the most out of a very small +matter.</p> + +<p>They could create a sensation at home, and the +prospect of being the “bright particular star” of a +circle of admiring and wondering friends, enabled her +to decide between Saratoga and the east. The preparations +were completed, and in due time they reached +the “village of Boston,” as Tim facetiously termed it.</p> + +<p>Father and mother were duly astonished when the +magnificent Mr. Buttercup spread himself. The old +gentleman’s eyes stuck out, and his mouth was all +agape with wonder. He “couldn’t exactly see how +Broadway, if ’twan’t more’n a hund’ed foot wide, could +hold all the carriages Tim telled on stoppin’ afore his +door.”</p> + +<p>In the course of events, Tim and his accomplished +lady called on his sister, Mrs. Sparrow, whose husband +was the secretary of an insurance company. Mr. +Sparrow lived in his own house—a small, but neat +and convenient structure. It was plainly furnished; +but reasonable people said they were prettily situated, +while those who knew them best were sure they were +contented and happy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Belladonna Buttercup looked over the house, and +turned up her nose at it. Tim’s mother was with +them, and the simple-minded old lady was so indiscrete +as to ask her magnificent daughter-in-law how she +would like just such an establishment. She should not +like it; it would not suit her. When she went to +housekeeping, not less than six thousand dollars would +furnish her house. At present, she preferred boarding.</p> + +<p>“Then you don’t like my house, Belladonna?” +asked Mrs. Swallow, with the slightest appearance of +disappointment on her smiling face.</p> + +<p>“Well, I can’t say that I do, Maria,” replied Mrs. +Buttercup, languidly.</p> + +<p>“It is as good as any body need have,” added Mrs. +Buttercup, Senior. “If I ever see Tim as comfortably +settled as Charles is, I shall be perfectly satisfied.”</p> + +<p>“Dear me! Tim wouldn’t look at such an establishment.”</p> + +<p>“He may be glad to yet.”</p> + +<p>“I am sure I always liked my house very much indeed,” +said Mrs. Swallow.</p> + +<p>“You have everything comfortable, Maria; every +thing <i>comfortable</i>.”</p> + +<p>“It is as good as my husband can afford; and housekeeping +is so much preferable to boarding.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think so? I would not go to housekeeping +for all the world.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Swallow shook her head.</p> + +<p>“But then it depends, of course, upon whether +you get a good boarding house,” continued Mrs. Buttercup. +“We are delightfully situated. Some of the +first families in the city board there. Besides, there +is so much society in New York, I really don’t think +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span>I could find time to keep house. Why, there is the +Hon. Mr. Flunkey—he is a member of Congress, you +know—invited us to go out to his country seat on +the Hudson and spend the summer. Mrs. Flunkey +pressed and insisted, and would not take ‘no’ for an +answer.”</p> + +<p>“Did you go?” asked Mrs. Buttercup, Senior.</p> + +<p>“Why, no; we couldn’t go. Tim’s business drove +him so, that the poor fellow couldn’t sleep nights. +And there are the Smallheads—they live next door to +N. P. Willis, out to Lazywild——”</p> + +<p>“Idlewild,” suggested Mrs. Swallow.</p> + +<p>“So it was; well, they would have us come and +spend a month with them. They are very fine folks. +General Smallhead was an aide-de-camp with General +Washington at Braddock’s defeat, you remember.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed! then he must be a very old man,” added +Mrs. Swallow.</p> + +<p>“About fifty.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Braddock’s defeat occurred a hundred years +ago!”</p> + +<p>“O, no; you are mistaken,” replied Mrs. Buttercup, +blushing a little. “But no matter; he insisted on a +visit. What could I do with a house?”</p> + +<p>“Very true,” answered Mrs. Swallow, politely.</p> + +<p>“And then Tim has a season ticket at the opera. +He paid two hundred dollars for a choice of seats last +season.”</p> + +<p>“Did he?” said the mother-in-law, with a frown.</p> + +<p>“And it is so pleasant when you are away so much, +to be rid of the responsibility of keeping house.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Swallow did not think so. But Mrs. Buttercup +had others in view whom it was her purpose to astonish, +and she took her leave soon after.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span></p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_10"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>For the first time in her housekeeping experience, +Mrs. Sparrow felt a little discontented, after her sister-in-law +had gone. Her pleasant little house looked +smaller than ever before; its plain, substantial furniture +looked coarse and common. Why couldn’t her husband +have some of the fine things that other people had? +Why couldn’t she have a carved rosewood table, antique +chairs, a tapestry carpet, and velvet draperies at the +windows? Her husband owned the house in which +they lived, and had over a thousand dollars in the +bank. Mrs. Walbend, in the next house, had all these +fine things, and her husband got but a thousand dollars +a year, while Mr. Swallow got fifteen hundred.</p> + +<p>“Charles,” said she, when her husband came home +to tea that evening, “I have been thinking of something.”</p> + +<p>“Have you, indeed! That is rather remarkable,” +replied Mr. Swallow, with a smile.</p> + +<p>“You don’t want to know what, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>“I do! I am ‘dying with curiosity,’ as the ladies +say.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, I will tell you; but don’t be cross +about it.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Swallow promised not to be cross about it.</p> + +<p>“I have been thinking about having some new furniture.”</p> + +<p>The husband stuffed a tea roll into his mouth. Evidently +the subject was not a very inviting one to him.</p> + +<p>“I want you to entirely refurnish the house.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Swallow upset his tea.</p> + +<p>“You can afford it, can’t you?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span></p> + +<p>“I think not, my dear.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you can, Charles.”</p> + +<p>“What has got into you, Maria?” asked her husband, +very seriously.</p> + +<p>“You promised not to be cross.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t be; but I am very much surprised. I +thought you were perfectly satisfied with your house +and furniture.”</p> + +<p>“We have everything comfortable, but——” Mrs. +Swallow paused.</p> + +<p>“What more do you want?”</p> + +<p>“Our furniture is not in fashion.”</p> + +<p>“The d—euce it isn’t!”</p> + +<p>“No; and I want some antique chairs, a carved +centre table, a tapestry carpet, and velvet draperies, +for the windows——”</p> + +<p>“What else?”</p> + +<p>“And a mirror seven feet high to go between the +windows.”</p> + +<p>“Call it twelve, my dear.”</p> + +<p>“If you could only hear Belladonna tell of the +houses in New York. Why, she says the Hon. Mrs. +Chopstick has a mirror in her parlor which is twenty +feet high by fifteen wide.”</p> + +<p>“Did she tell you how big the doors of that house +were?”</p> + +<p>“And the carpet which General Smallhead bought +last winter cost nineteen dollars and a half a yard.”</p> + +<p>“And a half?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; they asked twenty, but the General bought +so much that they took off half a dollar.”</p> + +<p>“Our rooms are so small that we should have to pay +twenty, then,” added Mr. Swallow, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>“Other folks live so fine, why can’t we?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span></p> + +<p>“Other folks have money.”</p> + +<p>“So have you.”</p> + +<p>“A little; but I mean to keep it in preference to +buying this trumpery with it.”</p> + +<p>“Since Belladonna has been here, I feel quite discontented.”</p> + +<p>“Belladonna is a silly creature, and I thank my +stars that my wife is not like her,” replied Mr. Swallow, +chucking the pretty little pouting wife under the +chin.</p> + +<p>“But she knows what the fashions are.”</p> + +<p>“And that is all she does know.”</p> + +<p>“She says we have ‘everything comfortable.’”</p> + +<p>“Which is very true.”</p> + +<p>“But we are not in style.”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw!”</p> + +<p>“Won’t you buy some more stylish furniture, +Charles?”</p> + +<p>“No, my dear; I cannot afford it.”</p> + +<p>“If you could only hear Belladonna talk!”</p> + +<p>“Probably she makes things appear full as bright +as they are.”</p> + +<p>“Tim is doing a great business; making thousands +and thousands of dollars.”</p> + +<p>“I <i>hope</i> he is.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Charles! he has taken a great store in +Broadway, and keeps, I don’t know how many clerks +he said—fifty or a hundred.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Swallow’s cough troubled him.</p> + +<p>“Maria, you used to be very contented and happy. +Don’t let this silly idea get possession of you. Our +house is furnished very well. If I had twenty +thousand dollars, I would not furnish it any better—that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span>is, not to please myself. If Tim can afford to +live in better shape than I do, let him; it will not +disturb me. Don’t think any thing more about it.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t, Charles; but I felt so cheap when Belladonna +talked so familiarly of all those fine things, and +of her acquaintances among the <i>élite</i>; I felt as though +I was nobody.”</p> + +<p>“Wait, my dear, wait a while. Time will show +what all these great pretensions amount to. I hope +Tim will do well; but with such loose ideas of economy +as he appears to have, and, more than all with +such a silly, extravagant wife, there is much to fear.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Swallow was satisfied. The words of her more +experienced husband banished the feelings of chagrin +and discontentment she had permitted herself to harbor. +A careful reconsideration of Belladonna’s extravagant +stories convinced her that some of them, if not +made out of “whole cloth,” were greatly exaggerated, +and she came to the conclusion that her sister-in-law +was no more of a lady in reality than she was herself.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_8"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>About six months after the events we have detailed, +as Mr. and Mrs. Swallow were sitting down to breakfast, +they were surprised by the abrupt appearance of +Tim and his wife.</p> + +<p>“This is unexpected,” said Mr. Swallow.</p> + +<p>“Rather sudden,” replied Tim, more seriously than +he was wont to speak.</p> + +<p>“I am glad to see you. Breakfast is all ready.”</p> + +<p>“We have left New York for good,” interposed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>Belladonna, after she had kissed and hugged her sister-in-law +twenty times—an exhibition of affection which +she had not before manifested since she became Mrs. +Buttercup.</p> + +<p>“Indeed!” exclaimed Charles and Maria together.</p> + +<p>“Fact!” said Tim, with a melancholy laugh.</p> + +<p>“And I am so glad to get away from there! I always +hated New York!” added Belladonna.</p> + +<p>“Why, I thought you liked New York. Pray how +are your friends the Smallheads, the Flunkeys, and the +Chopsticks?”</p> + +<p>“I hate them all!”</p> + +<p>“Going into business in Boston, Tim?” asked Mr. +Swallow.</p> + +<p>“Is it possible you have not heard of it?” said +Tim, looking his brother-in-law hard in the face.</p> + +<p>“Heard of what?”</p> + +<p>“My misfortunes.”</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>“Bu’st up.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry to hear it.”</p> + +<p>“Sad, but true;” and Tim essayed a stroke of humor. +“Yes, <i>sir!</i> bu’st up; not a sixpence left—poor +as a church mouse—borrowed the money to come on +with.”</p> + +<p>“Tim makes the best of it, you see,” added Belladonna, +with a laugh. “For my part, I was almost +glad he failed, I was so rejoiced to get away from +New York. But, Maria, how have you been since I +saw you?”</p> + +<p>“Very well indeed.”</p> + +<p>“And how is little Charley? the dear little fellow!” +continued Mr. Buttercup, tenderly kissing the little +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span>boy, who sat in the high chair at the table, and who +had contrived to daub his mouth pretty thoroughly +with the molasses on his buckwheat cakes.</p> + +<p>“How long since this affair happened?” asked Mr. +Swallow, when the party had seated themselves at the +table.</p> + +<p>“Three weeks,” replied Tim. “Took every thing I +had—tried to get a situation—couldn’t find one.”</p> + +<p>“But where were Funks, Hunks, and Co.? Didn’t +they want you?” asked Maria.</p> + +<p>Tim looked at her—looked queer.</p> + +<p>“No; they have a man now,” replied he.</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do?” inquired Mr. Swallow.</p> + +<p>“I happened to meet White in New York, and told +him how I was situated—offered me five hundred a +year to come on as salesman—accepted his offer.”</p> + +<p>Maria looked at Belladonna, and thought of furnishing +a house at an expense of six thousand dollars.</p> + +<p>After breakfast, when Tim and Charles had gone +out, Mrs. Buttercup introduced another topic.</p> + +<p>“How pleasant it would be if we could board with +you!” said she abruptly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Swallow did not think it would be so pleasant; +but of course she could not say so, and, being too +honest to belie her own heart, she remarked that they +did not live in very good style.</p> + +<p>“Good enough for any body, Maria.”</p> + +<p>“But if your friends, the Smallheads or the Flunkeys, +should happen to visit you——”</p> + +<p>“O, there is no fear of that; if they did, I should +not care.”</p> + +<p>“But we live so plainly compared with your fashionable +boarding houses.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span></p> + +<p>“You live well enough; and your house is so nice +and convenient.—O, I should be so happy!”</p> + +<p>“We have every thing comfortable,” added Maria, +slyly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Belladonna Buttercup stopped to think. That +remark sounded familiar to her ears.</p> + +<p>“Very comfortable, and nice, and pretty! I wish +Tim had just such a house!”</p> + +<p>“You have altered your mind.”</p> + +<p>“And just such furniture—I should be so happy!”</p> + +<p>At dinner time the matter was still further discussed. +Though Mr. Swallow liked Tim very well, he +did not like his wife; but in consideration of their +unfortunate condition, he consented to receive them as +boarders.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Buttercup never says a word now about an +establishment, and Tim has a more serious and respectful +way of speaking of a hundred thousand dollars. +The Smallheads are never mentioned, and Tim thinks +he missed it when he moved into a larger store. +Belladonna declares she never heard of such a thing +as a mirror twenty feet long by fifteen high, and is +quite sure the Smallhead carpet did not cost above +three dollars a yard.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Swallow is satisfied that fine furniture does not +make a happy wife. She regards the New York experience +of her brother and his wife as an excellent +commentary on the vanity of magnificent pretensions. +And though her husband has been elected cashier of +the Bay State Bank, with a salary of twenty-five +hundred dollars per annum, she is still content with +having “<span class="allsmcap">EVERY THING COMFORTABLE</span>.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="FAMILY_JARS"> + FAMILY JARS. + <br> + <span class='allsmcap ls2'>A LESSON FOR WIVES.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<img class="drop-cap w67" src="images/i_132.jpg" alt="Y" style="max-width: 25.6875em;"> + +<p class='drop-cap d13'><span class='upper-case'>“He’s</span> real ugly, there! +He treats his wife +shamefully!” exclaimed +Mrs. Benson, +a pretty little woman, +who had been a wife +just eleven months +and twelve days.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not, my +dear,” replied the +young husband, +quietly crossing his +legs over the top of +the fire frame, and +puffing out a long +wreath of smoke from +his mouth as he removed +the fragrant regalia.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not! Why, haven’t I seen it myself?”</p> + +<p>“You are not acquainted with all the circumstances.”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! A man that can treat his wife so rudely +is a perfect brute; I don’t care what the circumstances +are.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span></p> + +<p>“Brown always was a good-hearted fellow, and if he +is changed at all, matrimony has done it.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Charles; you are very complimentary. +I wonder if matrimony has changed you.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Julia, we have not been married quite a +year yet,” replied the husband, smiling.</p> + +<p>“Indeed!”</p> + +<p>“Brown has been married five years,” replied Mr. +Benson, with admirable self-possession.</p> + +<p>“Then you think <i>I</i> have not shown out what I am +yet?”</p> + +<p>“Bah! My dear, you are making quite a personal +matter of it. We were speaking of Brown.”</p> + +<p>“Brown is a brute—a hog!” said the lady, in a +pet.</p> + +<p>“What has Brown done?”</p> + +<p>“Done? Why, good gracious! He is enough to +wear out a woman’s patience.”</p> + +<p>“I dare say, my dear; but what has he done?”</p> + +<p>“Every thing. He is wearing his poor, patient wife +out; she will die—poor, weak, sensitive thing—under +such treatment.”</p> + +<p>“No doubt of it; but you do not tell me what he +has done.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mean to say that he beats her.”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Nor starves her.”</p> + +<p>“Does he scold at her?”</p> + +<p>“No; if he would only scold, it would be a relief +to her.”</p> + +<p>“Poor Mrs. Brown!”</p> + +<p>“He is so cold and distant; I am sure he married +her for her money.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span></p> + +<p>“Quite likely; but how is it with Mrs. Brown? Is +<i>she</i> an angel?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know as she is an angel; but she bears +her sorrows <i>like</i> an angel. The poor thing had been +crying, I know, when I called there this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“Did she tell you what the matter was?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; you know we were children together, and +never had any secrets,” replied the young wife, with +a troubled expression; for she had some doubts as to +the propriety of what she had done.</p> + +<p>“Don’t meddle with a quarrel between man and +wife, Julia,” said Mr. Benson, shaking his head.</p> + +<p>“I could not bear to see her suffering; so I asked +her what the matter was.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry you did.”</p> + +<p>“I could not help it, Charles; I pitied her so, and +I was pretty well satisfied as to the cause of her +grief.”</p> + +<p>“And her husband illtreats her?”</p> + +<p>“He does not love her. She says he has been +two or three days without speaking to her.”</p> + +<p>“That is bad; but who is to blame?”</p> + +<p>“Who is to blame? Why, <i>he</i>, of course;” and +the pretty little Mrs. Benson looked up in astonishment +from the little cap she was embroidering.</p> + +<p>“Why ‘<i>of course</i>’?”</p> + +<p>“He don’t consult her tastes in regard to his dress. +If she asks him to bring her home any thing from +down town, ten chances to one he forgets it. He +don’t seem to care for her feelings. The poor thing +says she has cried for an hour in his presence, and +he has sat like a log, perfectly unmoved—so different +from <i>you</i>, Charles.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span></p> + +<p>“Perhaps Mrs. Brown is not in every respect like +<i>you</i>, my dear.”</p> + +<p>The young wife looked up with a smile of gratified +pride. She was yet young and beautiful, and, what +was far better than youth and beauty, she was good +tempered, kind, and reasonable. Mrs. Brown’s case +excited all her sympathies, and she proceeded to +detail to her husband a list of the poor lady’s trials. +But, as the reader will be better able to appreciate +them by being present during the scene described, we +will introduce the injured lady and her unfeeling husband.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_11"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Mrs. Brown sat by the fire in the parlor, turning +over the pages of the last new novel. Occasionally +she sighed, as though the world had used her badly, +and she had not the means of paying off the world for +its ill treatment.</p> + +<p>Mr. Brown kept a dry goods store, and, being a +prudent, industrious man, he substituted his own +services for those of an extra clerk, which kept him +busily occupied from an early hour in the morning till +late in the evening.</p> + +<p>He had been married five years, and, for some +reason unknown beyond the pale of his own home, +his matrimonial experience, without being decidedly +stormy, was very far from being pleasant and profitable +to either party. Brown was a good-hearted fellow, +and always looked on the bright side of things. +If the world would only move along smoothly, he was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span>perfectly satisfied, and never felt disposed to quarrel +with any body.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brown’s disposition was not particularly objectionable; +she was kind-hearted, clever, and amiable, as +the world goes; but somehow nothing ever went right +with her. It seemed as though every body took a +malicious pride in tormenting her—Brown in particular. +If Brown bought sausages for dinner, she +was sure to want mutton, and if mutton, she was sure +to want sausages.</p> + +<p>Brown could not understand it. Whatever he did +was sure to be exactly wrong. But Brown was a +philosopher; and, though he sometimes got so disgusted +that he held his tongue for several days, he +maintained a very tolerable degree of good nature.</p> + +<p>Brown treated himself to a new overcoat. Being +reasonably independent in such matters, he had assumed +the responsibility of purchasing the garment +without consulting his wife.</p> + +<p>Imprudent Brown, thus to expend the sum of eighteen +dollars without consulting Mrs. B! Reckless Brown, +thus to buy that brown coat, when all the experience +of the past pointed to the appalling consequences! +Did you not remember the last time you purchased a +pair of pants, that neither the hue nor the texture +suited your amiable partner? Did you not call to +mind the last curtain lecture on this very topic, when +you audaciously ordered the tailor to make you a +coat off that piece? Knew you not that Mrs. B. +likes not black, drab, green, brown, olive, blue, nor +any thing of the fancy order?</p> + +<p>But Brown recklessly ordered the coat, and when it +was done, he recklessly put it on. What made the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>offence a hundred fold more horrible, he coolly +marched, with the coat on, into the parlor where Mrs. +B. sat by the fire, turning over the pages of the last +new novel.</p> + +<p>The lady was thunderstruck; but she was not one +of your spitfires, who make a tremendous tempest in your +presence when anything does not suit them. She was +meek, patient, suffering, under any indignity, even +one so pointed and wicked as in the present case.</p> + +<p>The lady looked up from her book, and bestowed a +languid smile upon the partner of her joys, and, alas! +of her sorrows too.</p> + +<p>Brown smiled in return; he could not do less than +smile. He even looked innocent, as though he had +done nothing wrong—as though he had not aimed a +blow at the peace of his amiable lady.</p> + +<p>“What have you got on, Jonas?” asked she, +mildly.</p> + +<p>“An overcoat,” replied Brown, sententiously.</p> + +<p>“A new one?” sighed the lady.</p> + +<p>“Just from the tailor’s shop,” answered Brown, +screwing up his courage to meet the onslaught.</p> + +<p>“You know I don’t like brown, Jonas.”</p> + +<p>“<i>I</i> do,” replied Brown, valorously.</p> + +<p>“You know I <i>never</i> like brown.”</p> + +<p>Brown had half a mind to construe the remark into +a pun; but he was forbearing, thought no evil, and +so kept silence.</p> + +<p>“It’s a sack too; you know I <i>never</i> liked a sack.”</p> + +<p>“I always did.”</p> + +<p>“A surtout would become you much better.”</p> + +<p>“I like a sack.”</p> + +<p>“It is a horrid-looking coat,” sighed Mrs. Brown.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span></p> + +<p>“Muddle says it is the best looking coat I ever +had on.”</p> + +<p>“Muddle! Of course <i>he</i> would say so.”</p> + +<p>“Temple said so too.”</p> + +<p>“Temple has no taste.”</p> + +<p>“I agree with Temple.”</p> + +<p>“You never <i>will</i> wear a coat that suits me.”</p> + +<p>Brown thought this was strictly true, but, being a +prudent man, he held his peace.</p> + +<p>“You still persist in letting Muddle make your +clothes, though he charges you more than any one +else would.”</p> + +<p>“His prices are reasonable.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you would let some other tailor make your +coat; Muddle’s clothes <i>never</i> set well.”</p> + +<p>“Fit me to a T.”</p> + +<p>“If it had only been black!”</p> + +<p>“But, my dear, you forget that my last coat was +black, and you did not like that.”</p> + +<p>“It suits your figure better than brown.”</p> + +<p>Just at that moment the door bell rang, and the +servant brought in a pair of pants.</p> + +<p>“What is that?” asked the lady.</p> + +<p>“Pants.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. B eagerly opened the bundle. The garment +was black.</p> + +<p>“Black pants!” exclaimed the lady, holding them +up before her; “you <i>know</i> I don’t like black pants.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, my dear, you just now said you did like +black.”</p> + +<p>“Not black <i>pants</i>; you know I never <i>did</i> like +them; besides, they won’t wear well.”</p> + +<p>“But, Mrs. B., I do not wish <i>you</i> to wear them.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span></p> + +<p>The lady thought this was exceedingly cruel of Mr. +Brown; for she, poor woman, had no more idea of +“wearing the breeches” than she had of going to +Congress.</p> + +<p>“They suit me, my dear. <i>I</i> never interfere with +your taste in regard to bonnets and dresses.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you would tell me what you like best; I +am sure I desire to conform to your taste.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t wish to. I cannot tell what is good taste +in furbelows and flounces, any more than a woman +can in coats and pants.”</p> + +<p>“But you might be a little more attentive to my +wishes. You used to <i>once</i>.”</p> + +<p>This was a hard hit, and Mr. Brown was silent.</p> + +<p>“You don’t seem to care whether I am suited or +not, now.”</p> + +<p>Brown still was silent; the story had been repeated +so often that he knew precisely what to expect.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brown continued to rehearse her grievances, believing +herself the most miserable woman in the +world. Finally, the tears gathered in her eyes, and +she sobbed bitterly. Brown was a monster; he never +tried to please her, even in the slightest things; and +the thought that her husband’s affections were alienated +was perfectly overwhelming.</p> + +<p>Brown had picked up the last new novel, which +had fallen from Mrs. B.’s lap, and sat turning over +the leaves with the most stoical indifference. How +could Brown sit and see his beloved wife, the partner +of his joys and sorrows, weeping as though her +heart would break, and not offer her a word of consolation? +Brown was a philosopher.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span></p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_9"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>It was after such a scene as we have described that +Mrs. Benson called upon the friend of her early years, +and found her in tears. She believed that poor Mrs. +Brown was cruelly treated by her hard-hearted husband.</p> + +<p>Several months elapsed, and the difficulty between +Brown and his wife increased. The lady was an habitual +grumbler; she grumbled for the sake of grumbling, +because it seemed to be a “fixed fact” with +her that grumbling was one of the essentials of her +existence—one of the luxuries of life.</p> + +<p>Though Brown <i>was</i> a philosopher, there is a point +beyond which even philosophy cannot go to defend +its votaries. The lady’s unamiable peculiarity grew +upon her, and Brown’s disgust threatened to produce +a fatal rupture. Several times after the lady had given +him a lesson on the duty of consulting a wife’s taste,—after +she had cried her eyes out with vexation because +she could not grumble any more,—her unfeeling +spouse had deserted the house, remaining out till +midnight. Some flying rumors were in circulation, +too, that he had been seen “lingering long at the +bowl,” and even that he frequented gambling houses.</p> + +<p>Then people felt sorry for poor Brown, an honest, +hardworking, economical man as he was; it was a +great pity that he should go to destruction.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Benson felt keenly for her friend. Brown was +a monster; and the injured lady told her she should +certainly die if a drunken husband were added to her +other miseries. She even wished Mrs. Benson to request +her husband to talk to Brown about his vicious +propensities.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span></p> + +<p>Mr. Benson had done so. Brown was a little +“stuck up” at first, but quietly informed the obliging +remonstrant that since home had become a hell +to him, he had been obliged to seek comfort in a +grog shop, and concluded his cold-blooded remark +by suggesting that people had better mind their +own business.</p> + +<p>Benson thought so too, and fully resolved not to meddle +with the matter again. But, although Brown had +resisted his well-meaning neighbor’s interference, it +was not without its effect, and the injured lady had +the satisfaction of informing her sympathizing friend +that he did much better, that his breath did not smell +half so strong of rum, and that he was at home every +evening by nine o’clock.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Benson was encouraged, and a few days after +accepted an invitation to tea at the Browns’.</p> + +<p>That day, the reckless, obstinate husband had worn +home to dinner a new plaid vest—a pattern in fashion +at that time.</p> + +<p>The lady did not like plaid—she <i>never</i> liked plaid; +and poor Brown went to the store leaving his wife in +tears at his perverse taste. She had exhausted all her +rhetoric in grumbling at the offending garment, and +her hard-hearted husband had maintained his usual indifference +to sighs and tears. Brown was disgusted; +and, though we heartily approve of husbands pleasing +their wives in these matters, some how we cannot +find it in our heart to blame him. She always grumbled +at him, and, poor fellow, what could he do?</p> + +<p>Mrs. Benson did not arrive in season to hear the +lady’s story about the vest before Brown himself came. +He was in high glee, apparently, notwithstanding the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>recent tempest. The visitor thought him a “very nice +man,” and she sighed when she thought of his vicious +propensities.</p> + +<p>Brown was polite, very polite, and the pretty little +Mrs. Benson felt no reserve in his presence.</p> + +<p>“What a pretty vest you have got on, Mr. Brown!” +said she, smiling sweetly upon the horrible husband.</p> + +<p>“Do you think so?” exclaimed Brown, rubbing +his hands with excitement.</p> + +<p>“Certainly, I do; it’s a perfect love of a vest. I +shall persuade Charles to have one just like it.”</p> + +<p>“How strange you talk, Julia!” said Mrs. Brown.</p> + +<p>“Strange! why?”</p> + +<p>“To call <i>that</i> vest pretty.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure it is.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a perfect fright. My husband has no taste in +his dress.”</p> + +<p>“Why, now, I think he dresses with admirable +taste,” replied Mrs. Benson, surveying the apparel of +Brown, who stood like a show image in the middle +of the room. “I admire his taste.”</p> + +<p>“It is not <i>my</i> taste,” sighed Mrs. Brown.</p> + +<p>The pretty little sympathizing woman was seized +with a doubt whether Brown was such a monster, +after all.</p> + +<p>Just then Bridget popped her head in at the door +to say that the baker had not sent the tea cakes.</p> + +<p>“The tea cakes, Jonas,” said Mrs. Brown.</p> + +<p>“There! by all that is sweet and pleasant to the +taste, I forgot all about them,” exclaimed Brown, +seizing his hat.</p> + +<p>“Just the way always,” groaned the suffering wife. +“You never will do the little errands I ask you to.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span></p> + +<p>“Why, my dear, I <i>intended</i> to do the errand, but +I forgot it,” pleaded Brown, with abundant good +humor.</p> + +<p>“You always forget what <i>I</i> want you to do.”</p> + +<p>“But, my love, I did not forget it on purpose.”</p> + +<p>“It’s always the way;” and Mrs. Brown threw +herself into a chair with an exhibition of despondency +which would have answered very well for the concentrated +miseries of a whole lifetime.</p> + +<p>“There’s no harm done; it is only half past +five, and I will have the tea cakes here in ten minutes.”</p> + +<p>“You might just as well have brought them before.”</p> + +<p>Brown looked cross, threw down his hat in a pet, +and settled himself upon the sofa.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Benson was silent with astonishment. Brown +rose fifty degrees in her estimation.</p> + +<p>“Are you not going to get the tea cakes, Jonas?” +asked Mrs. Brown, meekly, after the lapse of a few +minutes.</p> + +<p>Brown was silent.</p> + +<p>“You will not get back in season if you don’t go +soon.”</p> + +<p>Brown picked up the evening paper but said +nothing.</p> + +<p>“I must go myself then,” said the suffering lady, +rising from her chair.</p> + +<p>Brown knew this was only a part of his wife’s tactics; +but the pretty little Mrs. Benson, for whose +good opinion he entertained some anxiety, was present, +and he concluded to go himself.</p> + +<p>When he had gone, Mrs. Brown fixed a melancholy +gaze upon her visitor.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span></p> + +<p>“Now you have seen just how he behaves,” said +she, with a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>“I have,” replied Mrs. Benson, who for the first +time perceived that poor Brown was not the greatest +sinner in the world.</p> + +<p>“And so he wears my life out.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps your husband is not wholly to blame,” +suggested Mrs. Benson.</p> + +<p>“Why, Julia!” exclaimed Mrs. Brown, with languid +emphasis. “I am sure I bear and suffer every +thing. I had nearly cried my eyes out once before +to-day.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Brown seems disposed to be very good natured.”</p> + +<p>“Good natured, Julia! Didn’t you see how angry +he got? He went out without speaking a word.”</p> + +<p>“But you do not reflect how cruelly you provoked +him by needlessly finding fault with him. If I should +say half as much to my husband as you said to Mr. +Brown, he would turn me out of the house,” answered +Mrs. Benson, who, as she found herself implicated +in the quarrel, was disposed to be very +candid.</p> + +<p>“I was not conscious of doing any thing to provoke +him.”</p> + +<p>“You found fault with his vest.”</p> + +<p>“But such a horrid looking vest!”</p> + +<p>“There you and he differ; you say he never complains +of your dress.”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“He respects your tastes, then. You know how +bad you feel when any person says any thing disparaging +of your clothes; everybody does.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span></p> + +<p>“But he always dresses so shamefully out of taste.”</p> + +<p>“Other people do not think so; but even if he did, +you should not find fault with him.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t find fault,” sighed Mrs. Brown; “I only +mention what I like best.”</p> + +<p>“And the tea cakes,—you ought not to have said +a word.”</p> + +<p>“Why, he is so careless——”</p> + +<p>“All men are of things about the house; but you +must consider that their minds are full of business. +My husband is just so; but then he has so many +things to think of, I wonder that he does not forget +<i>every</i> little commission I give him.”</p> + +<p>“But your husband is different from mine. He <i>tries</i> +to remember.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, Mary, I see now what has caused the rupture +between you and Mr. Brown.”</p> + +<p>“Then you think <i>I</i> am altogether to blame?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not entirely; but I am satisfied, from +what I know of your husband, that, if you cease to +find fault with him, he will be all that a husband +should be.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brown bit her lip, and was silent. The truth +had forced itself home to her understanding. She was, +as we have before remarked, an amiable, good-hearted +body; but the fact that she had actually <i>grumbled</i> +away the peace of her once happy fireside had never +before occurred to her. Her eyes were opened, and +she saw that even so little a thing as habitual fault +finding can alienate the affections of man and wife, +and transform home—the temple of love and peace—into +a hell. Her resolution was formed, and fortified +by all the strength of her nature.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span></p> + +<p>Brown returned with the tea cakes. He was cold, +sullen, and reserved; but a smile from his wife—albeit +a boon seldom vouchsafed him—restored him +to his former equanimity.</p> + +<p>“Jonas, did you think to order some more coal to-day? +Bridget says there is not enough to get breakfast +with,” observed Mrs. Brown, as she handed her +husband his second cup of tea.</p> + +<p>Brown confessed that he had forgotten it, and braced +up his nerves to meet the storm.</p> + +<p>“Never mind, Jonas; we will contrive to get along +with wood.”</p> + +<p>Brown dropped his knife and fork in wonder, and +looked aghast at his wife.</p> + +<p>It was no illusion; his wife was as gentle in her +thoughts as in her actions. She found no fault; and, +for the first time in many months, Brown felt sorry +that he had forgotten to execute her commission.</p> + +<p>After tea, Mr. Benson came to spend the evening, +and it was one of the happiest evenings ever known +beneath the roof of the Browns. Nobody but the +two ladies could tell why, but, some how, every thing +went different from the ordinary course of events in +the family circle. Brown was bewildered—didn’t +know what to make of it, that his wife found no +fault.</p> + +<p>And she never found fault to any immoderate degree +again. Peace was restored. Brown went no more to +the drinking saloons, never staid out late at night, +and never let his wife cry without wiping away her +tears.</p> + +<p>He never knew what had produced the wonderful +change in his wife’s temperament, but he always laid +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>it to the visit of the pretty little woman who admired +his plaid vest.</p> + +<p>We never see a married man enter a drinking shop +to spend an evening without thinking that, perhaps he +has been driven from his fireside by a snarling, petulant, +discontented, fault-finding wife.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="LIFE_INSURANCE"> + LIFE INSURANCE; + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>OR</span>, + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>THE POOR MAN’S LEGACY.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<img class="drop-cap w60" src="images/i_148.jpg" alt="Y" style="max-width: 25em;"> + + +<p class='drop-cap d13'><span class='upper-case'>“Got</span> his life insured! +Then he will certainly +die!” exclaimed +Mrs. Jones, the mother +of a family of three +children, to her intimate +friend Mrs. +Brown, also rejoicing +in the maternity of a +promising brood of +little ones. “For my +part, I would no more +let my husband get +his life insured than +I would let him cut +his head off. He will +certainly die.”</p> + +<p>“That is the lot of all mortals, Mrs. Jones, and I +presume my husband does not consider himself exempt +from the common lot,” replied Mrs. Brown.</p> + +<p>“You know what I mean; he will die before his +time comes.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span></p> + +<p>“His time will have come when he dies.”</p> + +<p>“How captious you are!”</p> + +<p>“I do not understand you. The good book says +that ‘no man knoweth the day nor the hour.’”</p> + +<p>“But I never knew any man to get his life insured +without dying very soon after.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to say that getting a life insured is +likely to hasten the end of the assured?” asked Mrs. +Brown, with a pleasant smile at the superstition of +her friend.</p> + +<p>“Well, no, not exactly that; only it is a bad sign.”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! Do you think your husband’s barn is any +more likely to be burned down because he has taken +the precaution to have it insured?”</p> + +<p>“But that is not like getting one’s life insured; it +really seems to me just like trifling with serious +things.”</p> + +<p>“How absurd!”</p> + +<p>“But it does. Only think of attempting to thwart +the will of God. Insuring a life!”</p> + +<p>“You take the wrong view of it.”</p> + +<p>“Our minister takes the same view of it,” returned +Mrs. Jones, with triumphant assurance.</p> + +<p>“He does not understand the subject then.”</p> + +<p>“Our minister don’t?”</p> + +<p>“I am sure he does not.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones permitted a sneer to play upon her lips, +as she paused in her sewing, and gazed at her friend.</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to say that you know more than +the Rev. Mr. Schism, a regularly educated minister of +the gospel, in good and regular standing?” continued +she, scarcely able to restrain her indignation within a +reasonable limit.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span></p> + +<p>“I presume the Rev. Mr. Schism has confined his +attention mostly to the study of theology, and knows +much more about that than he does about the practical +affairs of every-day life,” rejoined Mrs. Brown, +somewhat warmly.</p> + +<p>“He says that it is trifling with death to get one’s +life insured; and I am sure, if my husband got his +life insured, I should certainly expect he would die +the very next day after he did the sacrilegious thing.”</p> + +<p>“I think you told me the other day that Mr. Jones +had put some money in the Savings Bank.”</p> + +<p>“Only twenty dollars—all he could spare.”</p> + +<p>“What did he put it there for?”</p> + +<p>“What for? Why, to keep, of course.”</p> + +<p>“Why does he wish to keep it?”</p> + +<p>“What a fool you pretend to be!”</p> + +<p>“Pray answer me.”</p> + +<p>“Against a rainy day.”</p> + +<p>“Has he no definite purpose in laying up money?”</p> + +<p>“To be sure he has. He means to have something +for his family, in case he should be taken away.”</p> + +<p>“But isn’t this trifling with serious things? What +does your minister say about it?”</p> + +<p>“How silly you are!”</p> + +<p>“But you are providing against such a calamity as +the death of your husband.”</p> + +<p>“It is not like life insurance.”</p> + +<p>“Just like it, only less efficient.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think so.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose your husband should die this year.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk so.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, Mrs. Jones, it is well to look these things +in the face, especially when you have used your influence +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span>to prevent your husband from making a provision +for you in the event of his death.”</p> + +<p>“He is opposed to the whole thing himself.”</p> + +<p>“Only think, if he should die this year, what would +become of you and your three children?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I suppose we should get along just as a +thousand others have done under the same circumstances.”</p> + +<p>“Think what a struggle you would have!”</p> + +<p>“Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,” replied +Mrs. Jones, coldly. “But here is my husband; he +can speak for himself.”</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_12"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>The two ladies, with whose conversation we have +prefaced our simple story, had been intimate friends +for many years. About the same time they had married +men in humble circumstances, and taken houses +near each other.</p> + +<p>Their husbands were journeymen mechanics, honest, +industrious, and frugal men, fair specimens of the bone +and sinew of New England. Their families had increased +in about the same ratio, and though they received +good wages, they found it required the most +rigid system of domestic economy to enable them to +keep along, and save a trifling sum against a “rainy +day.”</p> + +<p>Brown was a thoughtful man, whose domestic and +affectional nature was fully developed. He loved his +wife and children with a devotion worthy a reasonable +being. His happiest hours were spent by the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span>cheerful fireside of home. He was a conscientious +parent, and his care for his dependent loved ones +reached beyond the day of their present prosperity.</p> + +<p>In the future might be clouds and storms. The +whirlwind of adversity might burst upon him, and then +what would become of his wife—of Charley, and Joey, +and Emma?</p> + +<p>It was a question with which few would have +troubled themselves; but it was a question of momentous +importance. It was not borrowing trouble; it +was prudent forethought. But Brown was strong in +his bone and muscle, and while he had an arm, and +there was bread in the land, he could procure it. +All he could do was to save a scanty pittance from +his wages to meet the hour of trial, if it should ever +come.</p> + +<p>Death is no respecter of persons. It takes not only +those who leave houses, and lands, and money, and +stocks behind them, but it snatches the poor man +away from his dependent family. It robs the toiling +wife and the helpless little ones of the protecting arm +which had been bread, raiment, and shelter to them.</p> + +<p>Brown hoped to live many years, to bring up his +family, and when, by and by, business prospered with +him, to be enabled to make a decent provision for +them when he should go hence.</p> + +<p>Every man hopes thus much; many more than hope—they +feel sure of it.</p> + +<p>Brown was reasonable. A falling timber, a fever, a +thousand calamities, might carry him off before the +year expired. And what would become of his family +then? What more could his wife do, with three helpless +children, than take care of them? He could leave +them no legacy. He was a poor man.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span></p> + +<p>The reflection was startling. The fear of death took +possession of him—not the fear of passing through +the dark valley, for Brown was an honest man, and +trembled not in view of judgment and retribution, but +the fear of leaving his wife and children to hunger for +food, to tremble with cold, to starve for intellectual +sustenance. For several weeks he was gloomy and +sad, and more than once he questioned the wisdom of +his getting married before he had the means to support +his family in case of his decease.</p> + +<p>While thus depressed in spirits, his eye was attracted +by the advertisement of a Life Insurance Company. +His countenance brightened up with a smile, as he +read the notice. The remedy was before him, and it +seemed worse than folly not to embrace it.</p> + +<p>Before another week had passed away, he had +thoroughly investigated the whole subject, and insured +his life in the sum of three thousand dollars.</p> + +<p>Like a true apostle of a good cause, he was not +content to enjoy the blessing alone; and more than +once he had called the attention of his fellow-workmen +to the subject. Many of them had followed his example; +many of them were obstinate, and among them +Jones was the most obstinate of all.</p> + +<p>Brown was always pleased to discuss his favorite +topic. Life insurance had been a boon of happiness to +him; it had dispelled the dark clouds which lowered +over the future; it had done more to calm his mind +in relation to that great change which must come to +all, than the sermons of a hundred years could have +done; and he was eager to confer these blessings upon +others.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brown was quite as enthusiastic as her husband; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span>and when Jones entered the room where we +left the ladies, a strong hope that she might yet convert +him to her faith pervaded her mind.</p> + +<p>But Jones was more than usually obstinate.</p> + +<p>“It’s all a humbug, Mrs. Brown, you may depend +upon it,” said he. “These fellows mean to get your +money, and keep it. You never will catch them paying +the policies.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brown pointed him to the recorded experience +of the past.</p> + +<p>“I put my money in the bank, and feel that it is +safe.”</p> + +<p>“How much can you save in a year?”</p> + +<p>“Well, about a hundred dollars, as wages are now.”</p> + +<p>“Which is just my husband’s estimate.”</p> + +<p>“But he pays nearly as much as that to keep insured.”</p> + +<p>“Very true. He is insured for three thousand +dollars. If he should die to-day—which God forbid!—his +family would realize that sum.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Perhaps</i> they would.”</p> + +<p>“But, by putting one hundred dollars a year into +the bank, even if you got six per cent., compound interest, +your money would amount to only about six +hundred dollars in five years.”</p> + +<p>“Call it twenty years—how then?”</p> + +<p>“If you could be sure of living twenty years, perhaps +the money would amount to more than the policy. +But only think of your family if you should die +within one, or even five years!”</p> + +<p>“You are a shrewd one!” said Jones, evasively.</p> + +<p>“In twenty years your children will be able to take +care of themselves.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span></p> + +<p>“It’s all a humbug, you may depend upon it, Mrs. +Brown; got up to support lazy fellows in idleness—nothing +more, I candidly believe,” replied Jones; and +there the conversation ended, much to the regret of +Mrs. Brown, that she had been unable to win a convert +to the faith.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_10"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Some six months after, while Jones was engaged in +raising a house, he fell from the plate to the ground, +striking upon a rock in his fall. He was conveyed +to his home, and a council of physicians pronounced +it a hopeless case. His spine was injured, and there +was no possibility of recovery.</p> + +<p>He lingered along for a month in the most excruciating +agony, and then died. The expenses of his sickness +and of the funeral absorbed all his little savings; +and when his disconsolate wife, followed by her three +fatherless children, returned from the grave of her husband, +she realized that she was not only alone in the +world, but that she was penniless—literally penniless.</p> + +<p>It was a sad thought for the poor woman. Not even +a short season of mourning, which her widowed heart +craved, could be allowed her. Her children must not +starve, and there was no bread in the house.</p> + +<p>Her neighbors, suspecting her situation, were kind +to her, and sent in provisions in abundance; but instinctively +she shrunk from the mortifying alternative +of accepting charity.</p> + +<p>Poor woman! what could she do? How could she +support her fatherless children? She had no wealthy +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>relatives—she was from the house of poverty herself. +But she could not live on charity.</p> + +<p>The village in which she resided was a large place, +and though she was too proud to accept a gift, she +was not too proud to solicit work. With her eyes +yet red with weeping over her husband’s bier, she +called upon several wealthy families to ask for their +washing.</p> + +<p>It was given her, and she began to feel a certain +sense of independence again, as she returned with her +bundles of clothes to her desolate home.</p> + +<p>All she could do was given her; and with a severe +struggle, she was able to support herself and children, +and refused any overtures of aid which were made +her by her neighbors. Mrs. Brown attempted to assist +her friend, in a delicate way, but without success. +Mrs. Jones toiled on with all her strength and energy, +preferring independence to every other consideration.</p> + +<p>But it soon became evident to her neighbors that +her health was suffering severely from this unremitting +toil. Remonstrances were in vain; and ere another +six months had rolled away, Mrs. Brown was watching +over the dying bed of her friend. Little children, +not old enough to understand their lonely condition, +were gathered around it to receive the parting kiss of +a dying mother.</p> + +<p>Poor orphans! God will take care of you, though +all the world be cold and cruel! Ye shall not find +another mother, but the Father of the fatherless shall +watch over and protect you.</p> + +<p>She died, and they placed her by the side of her +husband, over whose grave the grass had not yet +grown. The hard lot of poverty had hurried her into +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span>that early grave. The want of a few of those dollars +which the gay and heartless thoughtlessly squander +by the thousand, had carried her down to that bourn +where there is no sorrow, and the weary are at rest.</p> + +<p>The orphans were carried to the poorhouse. Life +was a desert to them. Home was no more. Love +was in the cold grave.</p> + +<p>Was Jones right, or was he wrong? Would not +that boon of our progressive age, life insurance, have +averted some part of this long list of calamities? +Would it not have saved a mother’s life? Would it +not have redeemed those lonely orphans from the degradation +and neglect of the poorhouse?</p> + +<p>It could not have saved Jones’s life, but it could +have been a blessing to his family—a blessing that +would have reached down to distant generations. It +might have saved a home, and more, far more than +all beside, a devoted mother, to those fatherless little +ones.</p> + +<p>Brown, too, has gone to his rest. But his death entailed +none of the miseries upon his family, which +were the lot of Jones’s. His widow is a frugal and +industrious woman; but labor is her helpmate—her +husband now: she is not the slave of toil. Brown +left her the <span class="smcap">Poor Man’s Legacy</span>.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="LAST_DAY_OF_GRACE"> + LAST DAY OF GRACE; + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>OR</span>, + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>MR. LAWTON’S MOTHER-IN-LAW.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d00'><span class='upper-case'>“I can’t</span> stand it any longer, Lottie; I won’t +have her in the house!” exclaimed Samuel +Lawton to his wife.</p> + +<p>“But what are you going to do about it, Samuel? +You surely wouldn’t have me turn my own mother into +the street.”</p> + +<p>“No, no—not exactly that; but can’t you give +her a hint that she has staid long enough?”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure I can’t, Samuel,” replied the young wife, +with a sad and troubled look on her pretty face. “I +don’t see why you should be so prejudiced against +her.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you, my dear? Do you think it is pleasant +for me to have one continually telling me I am extravagant, +or something of that sort? She told me +just now that I could not afford to buy turkeys for our +Sunday dinner, when she saw me bring one home.”</p> + +<p>“She meant right, Samuel.”</p> + +<p>“But it is none of her business, Lottie.”</p> + +<p>“She is older and more experienced in these matters +than we are.”</p> + +<p>“Fudge! Do you believe, Lottie, that I don’t +know my own business a great deal better than she or +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span>any one else can teach me?” and the young husband +put on a look of dignity which showed how +deeply conscious he was of his own ability.</p> + +<p>“I hope you do, Samuel,” replied Lottie, who, as +can easily be supposed, was sorely perplexed by the +difficulties of her unfortunate position.</p> + +<p>Poor thing! She was a gentle-hearted, kind, and +tender woman, and loved her mother as truly as becomes +a married daughter. She was conscious that +her mother had her peculiarities—as who has not?—and +it was a source of continued regret to her that +her husband could neither understand nor bear with +them.</p> + +<p>They had been married about a year and a half. +Samuel Lawton was a merchant on a small scale. His +employer had set him up in business about a year +before his marriage, and he had done well; that is, +above his expenses he had cleared some eight hundred +or a thousand dollars, which was considered a very +fair income for a young man.</p> + +<p>The young merchant was elated with his success, +and, like very many others in his situation, felt that +he was an enterprising young man, and a thorough +financier. The road to wealth was before him, and +already he had formed a very clear idea of being at +the head of a large importing house, with clerks and +lumpers by the dozen at his command. His fancy +also gilded the picture with a very costly mansion on +Pemberton Hill, with a carriage and two sleek horses, +a footman, and opera, concerts, and great parties to +match.</p> + +<p>Samuel Lawton formerly belonged to a “debating +society,” in which the question of “early marriages” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span>had been thoroughly discussed. The chairman had +appointed him to sustain the affirmative; and either +on account of the skill and eloquence with which he +argued the point, or because the members were in +favor of matrimony at the earliest possible day, it was +decided that early marriages <i>were</i> eminently conducive +to the morality and happiness of mankind in general.</p> + +<p>One of the strongest arguments which our hero +could offer in support of his cause was, that matrimony +would save the young man from early dissipation. +He even went so far in his zeal as to declare +that a young man, even if he had not a penny in the +world, had better be married than wait till he had +the means. I will not trouble the reader with the +facts and statistics by which he made it appear that +it was cheaper to support man and wife than to support +man alone. But the best evidence he could give +of his devotion to his philosophy was to get married +himself; and accordingly, though he had not the +means of furnishing his house, and though he was still +deeply in debt for his stock, he took a wife in the +person of the youngest and last remaining daughter +of a widow lady, possessing a little property in her +own right.</p> + +<p>Of course the young man had to run in debt for +all the appurtenances of housekeeping; but this was +nothing; he was doing well. It made no difference +how much a man owed, provided he had the means +to pay. He was very sanguine of his future success. +His profits would be at least a thousand dollars a +year; but, reckless follow, he had no more idea how +far a thousand dollars would go than a baby. It +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>seemed to him a very large sum, and he gauged his +domestic expenditures on a pretty high scale.</p> + +<p>When he married Mrs. Harding’s last remaining +daughter, the widow was left alone. Lottie said it +would be so nice to have her “dear mother” with +her, and accordingly Samuel had invited her to make +his house her home.</p> + +<p>The good lady was in the main a very clever sort +of person, who probably talked quite as bad, possibly +a little worse, than she meant. She saw that her +son-in-law was going too fast, and, in her own way, +she made such comments as she deemed it the duty +of a faithful mother-in-law to make.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lawton did not relish what he deemed her interference. +He was very clear in his own way, and +to have a woman dictate to him, and croak about the +possible result of his lavish expenditure, was intolerable; +and when his patience was thoroughly exhausted, +he spoke to his wife upon the subject, as we have +written.</p> + +<p>Truth has been compared to a two-edged sword, +though it is generally believed that one edge to the +sinner is sufficiently uncomfortable. Samuel Lawton +had listened to his mother-in-law’s good advice, to her +suggestions on the economy of the household, for +more than a year, and Mrs. Lawton could not but +wonder what it was that made her husband so “touchy” +about it just now. He had always turned off the point +of her rebuke with a jest; but now he looked sour, +and actually wanted to get her mother out of the +house.</p> + +<p>The fact was, the young merchant had just begun to +find out that a thousand dollars a year would not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>“keep house” like a nabob. Certain notes were +about to fall due, and little debts without number +had been contracted. The unpleasant truth began +to dawn upon him that he was going faster than his +means would permit.</p> + +<p>In view of the consequences, he could already hear +Mrs. Harding’s triumphant “I told you so.” He had +resolved to reduce his expenses, to give over roast +turkeys for his Sunday dinner, and come down to +plain, old-fashioned pork and beans; but the idea of +giving in that the odious mother-in-law was in the +right was not to be harbored. He had postponed the +contemplated retrenchment till those said certain notes +began to cast ominous shadows in his pathway. It +must be done, and Mrs. Harding’s presence became +doubly troublesome.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_13"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>The poor, despised mother-in-law was so unfortunate +as to overhear some portion of the conversation +which so nearly concerned her; and the consequence +was, that in less than a week after, she left the +house, bag and baggage, for the home of another +daughter, who had repeatedly pressed her to come +and live with her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harding might have been provoked with her +son-in-law, but she prudently held her tongue, and +made no mention of the reason for her sudden +departure.</p> + +<p>Samuel felt quite a relief the very hour she left, +and in the evening, while they were seated in the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span>little parlor, the baby sleeping in the crib between +them, he was so ungenerous and unkind as to express +himself to this effect.</p> + +<p>“But, Samuel, you can’t think how lonesome I shall +be; you are in town all day,” said the poor wife.</p> + +<p>“Well, perhaps you will be for a few days; but +you will get used to it.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lawton sighed.</p> + +<p>“And then,” continued Mr. Lawton, “you have +the baby to occupy the time.”</p> + +<p>Just then there came from the cradle a single rough, +ringing cough—that peculiar, metallic-sounding cough +which is like the knell of death to the ear of the +loving mother.</p> + +<p>“O mercy!” exclaimed Mrs. Lawton, in tremulous +tones, as she sprang to the side of the cradle.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter Lottie?” asked Samuel.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t you hear that cough?” and the poor +mother’s frame trembled, and her teeth chattered with +alarm.</p> + +<p>“I suppose Sammy has got a little cold.”</p> + +<p>“It’s the croup, Samuel! Do run for the doctor as +quick as you can.”</p> + +<p>“To-night?”</p> + +<p>“O Samuel, he may be dead before morning!” and +the tears coursed freely down the cheek of the anxious +mother.</p> + +<p>“Nay, Lottie, you are nervous.”</p> + +<p>“I know it; but do go for the doctor.”</p> + +<p>“I will go if there is any need of it; but, really, +I do not see that there is;” and Samuel bent over +the cradle to discover what had so alarmed his wife.</p> + +<p>But the child still slept, and apparently breathed as +freely as ever.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span></p> + +<p>“Nay, Samuel, go; you know what the croup is.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, I will go if you wish;” and the young +husband put on his overcoat and left the house.</p> + +<p>The residence of the young merchant was in D——, +a town adjoining Boston, and the physician’s house +was full half a mile distant. He could hardly restrain +a smile at the idea of going for a doctor when the +baby had only coughed once.</p> + +<p>Dr. F—— was fortunately at home, and the two +proceeded on their return together. The physician +considered the case much more serious than the inexperienced +father had deemed it.</p> + +<p>On their arrival, they found the child awake. The +little patient was breathing laboriously, and occasionally +that brazen cough rang from his throat.</p> + +<p>“Croup!” said the doctor, the moment he entered +the room.</p> + +<p>“O, doctor, do you think he will die?” exclaimed +the agonized mother.</p> + +<p>“No, no, no!” replied Dr. F——, confidently.</p> + +<p>The physician was a good-natured, good-hearted +German, who was thoroughly master of his profession. +He had been eminently successful in his practice, +especially with children, and his words were like oil +upon the troubled waters to the anxious mother.</p> + +<p>“I am so frightened, doctor!”</p> + +<p>“There is nothing to fear; we have the case in +season, and there is no danger. Suppose you wait till +to-morrow morning before you call me? I shrug my +shoulders, and tell you the child must die.”</p> + +<p>“O Samuel!” exclaimed Lottie, looking at her husband.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lawton was appalled by the significant words. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span>His frame shook with terror. The child was his idol. +He knew nothing of the symptoms of the insidious +and terrible disease that menaced the life of his darling +little one; he was nervous and uneasy. Death seemed +to cast a broad shadow upon his home.</p> + +<p>The doctor gave the child a little white powder, and +placed some bandages wet in cold water upon its +throat and chest. The effect was instantaneous; the +child instantly breathed easier. Leaving the necessary +medicines, Dr. F—— took his leave, assuring the +anxious parents that the little one would be nearly +well by morning.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Lawton was uneasy, and Lottie was uneasy. +An undefinable dread had taken possession of their +hearts. Samuel was troubled. The child breathed +with a sad, groaning sound, which shook every fibre +in the nervous system of the father and mother. He +was conscious of their inexperience; the child might +relapse, and symptoms which they did not understand +might appear.</p> + +<p>“How I wish mother was here, Samuel!” said poor +Lottie, awed by the fearful responsibility that rested +upon her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lawton had wished so before, and thought if +he once more had her in the house, he would give +the world to keep her there—mothers-in-law are so +exceedingly useful at times!</p> + +<p>Samuel made no reply. Even in his terrible anxiety +for the life of his child, pride had not entirely deserted +him.</p> + +<p>Lottie shed a flood of tears. For the first time in +her life, her husband seemed cold and unfeeling, and +it was cruel in him not to second her wish in such +an hour of trial.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span></p> + +<p>“If he should grow worse, Samuel!” continued the +poor wife. “O, I am so fearful!”</p> + +<p>“I will go for your mother if you wish,” replied +Mr. Lawton, the anguish of his wife getting the mastery +of his feelings.</p> + +<p>“She has got cold; I don’t know as she would dare +to come out in the night air.”</p> + +<p>“I will try, at least.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Lawton left the house. Mrs. Harding’s new +home was not far off. He succeeded in rousing her, +and, in spite of her cold, she was ready in five minutes +to accompany him.</p> + +<p>His heart smote him as he thought how hard he had +been upon her—how he had almost attempted to +drive her from his roof; and in his soul he thanked +God that she did not know how mean he had been.</p> + +<p>Her advice had been good. She had spoken to him +for his interest, not for her own; and if she had not +spoken it exactly as he wished, why, it was only because +she was human, and had infirmities, like all the +rest of mankind.</p> + +<p>In the moment of peril and trial, he felt what a +blessing it was to have a mother-in-law.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harding soon comforted Lottie. She understood +the case, and perceived that the danger was +past. Her presence was like that of an angel. It +restored the drooping spirits of the devoted parents, +and by midnight, worn out with anxiety, they went +to sleep by the side of the child, whose slumbers, +though troubled, were deep and sound.</p> + +<p>The next morning, as Dr. F—— had predicted, +Sammy was nearly well, and Mr. Lawton went to his +business as usual; but there was trouble brewing +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>around him. He spent nearly all the forenoon in vain +attempts to raise the money to meet one of his notes +which came due that day. He was unsuccessful, and, +worn out and dispirited by his anxiety on the previous +night, he gave up in despair, and went home, +resolved to let the note be protested.</p> + +<p>“You come home early, Samuel,” said his wife.</p> + +<p>The young merchant made no reply, but threw himself, +with a heavy sigh, into a chair.</p> + +<p>“Why, what’s the matter, Samuel?”</p> + +<p>“I am ruined, Lottie!” replied he, gloomily. “I +must fail. This is the last day of grace, and I have +left a note to be protested.”</p> + +<p>Lottie was appalled by this intelligence. Mrs. +Harding, who sat by the fire, holding little Sammy, +merely glanced at him. She did not use those awful +words, “I knew it would be so.”</p> + +<p>“Mother, you were right; I have been too fast,” +said Mr. Lawton, gazing sheepishly at her. “I thought +very hard of you for telling me I lived better than I +could afford; but you were right; I may as well own +it.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry for you, Samuel. How much is the +note?” said Mrs. Harding, with a gentle look—a +look so kind and forgiving that it wrung his soul.</p> + +<p>“Eight hundred dollars,” replied Lawton.</p> + +<p>“Will you take the baby a moment, Lottie?” continued +Mrs. Harding, who, giving Sammy into the +hands of his mother, went to the secretary, and wrote +a check on her bank for the amount.</p> + +<p>“Why, mother, you wrong yourself,” exclaimed the +astonished Lawton, as she handed him the check.</p> + +<p>“Take it, Samuel; pay your note, and live and +learn,” replied she, with a benignant smile.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span></p> + +<p>Lawton took the money, and hastened back to the +city to pay his note. His credit was saved, and hope +again smiled upon him.</p> + +<p>In the course of conversation that evening, Lawton +was so far humiliated as to make this remark,—</p> + +<p>“Mother, you will come and live with us again, +won’t you?”</p> + +<p>“What! after you have wished me out of the +house?” replied Mrs. Harding, with a smile. “I +heard your conversation the other day.”</p> + +<p>“Forgive me, mother.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps, Samuel, I am not always just as I ought +to be; but we all have our weaknesses. I mean to +do right.”</p> + +<p>“I know you do; I understand you now. Last +night and to-day have taught me your value; and if I +had heeded your counsel, I need not have been pressed +for money to-day. Forgive me, mother.”</p> + +<p>“Freely, Samuel. I live only to make my children +happy.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harding resumed her residence at Lottie’s, and +from that time to this she has been appreciated. Mr. +Lawton learned a lesson. The long proposed retrenchment +was executed, and the prospect now is that he +will die a rich man, if he don’t die too soon.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>We were provoked to write this sketch by that contemptible +squib from Punch, to the effect that Adam +was a happy man because he had no mother-in-law. +If Cain or Abel, in their babyhood, had the croup, +measles, whooping cough, or any thing of that sort, +we warrant he sighed for that squib-ridden, conundrum-defamed +commodity—a <span class="allsmcap">MOTHER-IN-LAW</span>.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="MONTAGUE_AND_LADY"> + MONTAGUE AND LADY. + <br> + <span class='allsmcap ls2'>A LESSON FOR HUSBANDS.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d05'><span class='upper-case'>“Another</span> new dress!” exclaimed Mr. Simeon +Montague to his wife. “It does not seem to +be more than three weeks since you had one.”</p> + +<p>“Just two months, Simeon.”</p> + +<p>“And you need another?”</p> + +<p>“I should not ask for the money if I did not. +And Franky must have a new jacket, and Nellie a new +cloak.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Montague sighed.</p> + +<p>“I gave you fifteen dollars only a week ago.”</p> + +<p>“What is fifteen dollars? Do you think it will +clothe me and the children a year?” replied Mrs. +Montague indignantly.</p> + +<p>“Money comes hard,” suggested Mr. Montague.</p> + +<p>“I suppose it does; but if you wish me and the +children to go half clothed, why, only say so.”</p> + +<p>“Of course, I wish nothing of the kind; I only +want you to be as prudent as possible.”</p> + +<p>“I intend to be so.”</p> + +<p>“These are dreadful tight times.”</p> + +<p>“I should think they were,” replied the lady, with +a palpable sneer on her lip. “They have been just +so, though, ever since we have been married.”</p> + +<p>“Won’t next week do?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span></p> + +<p>“I engaged a dressmaker for next Friday.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how I can spare fifteen dollars to-day,” +said Mr. Montague, musing, apparently, upon his +financial affairs. “I have a note to pay to-day.”</p> + +<p>“You have had a note to pay every time I have +asked you for money since we were married.”</p> + +<p>“I will try and have it for you to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“I want to go out shopping to-day; I can’t go to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot possibly spare it to-day. Won’t ten dollars +answer your purpose?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I can make it do.”</p> + +<p>“If you can, I wish you would,” replied the husband, +as he took out his pocket book and handed her +that amount.</p> + +<p>“I can only get a calico for myself.”</p> + +<p>“Well, won’t that answer?”</p> + +<p>“Are you willing to go to church with me with a +calico dress on?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, my dear. Why not?”</p> + +<p>“I thought you had some pride.”</p> + +<p>“I have, but no foolish pride.”</p> + +<p>“A twenty-five dollar coat is hardly good enough +for you to wear to church.”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t have one every month.”</p> + +<p>“You have two every year.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Montague did not think it was prudent to say +any more; and putting on his hat, which he had just +been brushing with the most scrupulous care, he surveyed +his person before the looking glass. His collar +needed a little elevating, his cravat had to be re-adjusted, +and he discovered a speck of dirt on his black +coat, which was carefully removed. His lady looked +at him with a smile as he stood before the glass.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span></p> + +<p>“Calico dress, indeed,” thought she. “There is not +a prouder man walks Washington Street, than my husband.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Montague smoothed down his whiskers, and +was leaving the room, when a gentleman wishing to +see him was announced.</p> + +<p>“Ah, Butler,” said he, as the gentleman entered the +room.</p> + +<p>“I called at your store yesterday, but did not find +you,” said Butler, handing him a little paper.</p> + +<p>“Just so,” said he, opening it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Montague was impertinent enough to look over +his shoulder as he read the paper. It ran as follows:—</p> + +<table class='receipt'> +<tr> +<td class='tdl' colspan='2'> + “Mr. Simeon Montague +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class='tdr pr1' colspan='2'> +To Apollo Club Rooms, Dr. +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class='tdl'> + To your Quarterly Assessment, +</td> +<td class='tdr'> + $25,00 +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class='tdl pl1 pr3'> +“1 Basket Heidsick Champagne, +</td> +<td class='tdr'> 16,00</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class='tdl pl1'> +“100 Concha Cigars, +</td> +<td class='tdr bb'> 4,00 +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class='tdr'>$45,00</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class='tdc' colspan='2'>Received Payment,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class='tdr' colspan='2'> + <span class="smcap">B. Butler</span>, Steward.” +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>“Just so,” repeated Mr. Montague, throwing the +bill on the table, and taking out his pocket book. +“Sorry to trouble you; meant to have paid it last +night.”</p> + +<p>“No trouble at all,” replied Butler.</p> + +<p>“Forty-five, is it?” continued Montague, as he +counted out the money.</p> + +<p>“Forty-five.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span></p> + +<p>The steward of the “Apollo Club Rooms” put the +money in his pocket, and bade his liberal patron good +morning.</p> + +<p>“It was too bad to make him call twice for that +money, wasn’t it, Simeon?” asked Mrs. Montague, +when the steward had gone.</p> + +<p>“Of course I was sorry to give him any unnecessary +trouble,” replied Mr. Montague.</p> + +<p>“I thought you had a note to pay to-day?”</p> + +<p>“So I have.”</p> + +<p>“But can’t you spare me the other five dollars for +which I asked you?”</p> + +<p>“Can’t, possibly.”</p> + +<p>“I think your family ought to receive as much consideration +as the Club House, at least.”</p> + +<p>“I must go to the store, my dear; I am in a great +hurry.”</p> + +<p>“Sixteen dollars for champagne,” said the wife, +reading from the bill, which she had picked up from +the table. “I only asked for fifteen.”</p> + +<p>“You would not have me niggardly at the Club +Rooms, would you?”</p> + +<p>“I would not have you go there at all. I suppose +it is nothing to be niggardly in your family?”</p> + +<p>“Am I niggardly?” asked Mr. Montague, rather +sternly.</p> + +<p>The lady was silent.</p> + +<p>“One would think that I was made of money, by +the way you ask me for it,” continued Mr. Montague.</p> + +<p>“One would think you were, to see you paying +forty-five dollars a quarter at the Club House,” replied +Mrs. Montague, meekly. “A married man too.”</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t born to be tied to a woman’s apron-string,” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span>added Mr. Montague, rushing from the house.</p> + +<p>The lady looked at the door which had just closed +upon him. Her heart was sad, and she burst into +tears.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_14"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Mr. Simeon Montague thought the money he bestowed +upon his family was as good as wasted. He +was not a domestic man. He had married his wife, +with a reasonable show of affection, because her father +was rich, and she was an only daughter. Of course, +he would not even confess to his own heart that he +was so selfish and cruel as to marry for sordid motives—that +he had prostituted the holy altar of Hymen +by sacrificing to Plutus upon it; but it was none the +less true because he denied it to himself and every +body else.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Montague’s father at her marriage was only +about forty-five years of age; yet his health was so +feeble that there was not one chance in ten of his +living another year. But the old gentleman had +revived, and now, after twelve years had expired, +seemed to be completely rejuvenated. He was hale +and hearty, and gave the promise of living twenty +years more. Of course the sordid son-in-law was disappointed. +He had thrown himself into the sea of +matrimony with an unworthy motive, and if he had +been drowned there it would have served him just +right.</p> + +<p>Poor Mrs. Montague! Her bright hopes were all +wrecked. Instead of the world of affection she had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span>anticipated in the connubial relation, she found nothing +but coldness and sordid selfishness. Her husband still +frequented the Club House; and when at home, he +seemed to have no sympathy with her. His business +seemed to engross all his attention, and he had no +time to think of his wife, none to devote to his children.</p> + +<p>Yet Mr. Montague was not a morose or an ill-natured +man. He loved the good opinion of the world, and +would have made almost any sacrifice rather than have +had an imputation cast upon his domestic character. +He paid the most scrupulous attention to all the forms +of life, walked to church every Sunday with his wife +on his arm, always found the place in the hymn book +for her, and never failed abroad to manifest the most +lively interest in his family. He always called his +wife “my dear,” and spoke affectionately to the children +in the presence of company.</p> + +<p>The eye of affection could penetrate all this mass of +conventionalism, and the poor wife, in less than a +year after her marriage, realized that she had thrown +herself away upon a hollow-hearted man—one who, +without loving her, would keep the peace at almost +any sacrifice—one who would compel the world to +believe that he was the most tender and devoted husband, +even while his heart was petrified and cold. +His devotion was mere mechanism; it was a kind of +habit, acquired by an active desire to secure the good +will of all his friends.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, even if there had been none to see him, +Mr. Montague would not have been harsh; it was not +his nature. He was a smooth-tongued, plausible man +under all circumstances. He could appear to love +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span>when his heart was perfectly indifferent. He could +avoid the most palpable of his domestic duties even +while he professed the most earnest devotion to the +welfare of his family.</p> + +<p>Twelve years had in a measure reconciled the disappointed +wife to her lot. She was contented with it +because her maiden visions of connubial bliss had +evaporated, and she knew no other existence than +that to which she had been so long accustomed. Her +air castles, reared in the sunny years of her girlhood, +had long since tumbled to the ground, and left her in +a world of reality, cold and repulsive at first, but +rendered tolerable by long endurance.</p> + +<p>Her husband was sordid and selfish. He never felt +a hundred dollars expended in champagne suppers at +the Club House; but half that sum given to his wife +wrung his soul. Though he was in a good business, +lived in good style, and always had money at his +command, his brow always darkened when his wife +asked him for any sum to be expended upon herself +or her children. He was absolutely unwilling to give +it, though he could not possibly have endured the +mortification of seeing them shabbily dressed.</p> + +<p>Mr. Montague is not an anomaly among men. +There are thousands as sordid and inconsistent as he +was—thousands who wish to have their wives and +children appear well in the world, and at the same +time deny them the means of doing so.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Montague was in tears. She was both grieved +and provoked at the conduct of her husband. The +promptness with which he had paid his Club House +bill, while he denied her the trifling sum she had asked, +was a sad commentary on his devotion. For more +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>than an hour she thought the matter over, and became +fully assured that she was a much injured wife. Her +spirit was roused, and, putting on her bonnet, she left +the house to do her shopping.</p> + +<p>The calico dress her husband had professed to think +was good enough for her to wear to church was purchased, +and before Sunday was made up.</p> + +<p>The second bells were ringing for church. Mr. +Montague, elegantly dressed, was all ready, and stood +before the glass, contemplating his prepossessing appearance.</p> + +<p>“Are you ready, Ellen?” said he, calling to his +wife, who was up stairs.</p> + +<p>“I shall be in a moment. Walk along slowly with +Franky, and I will overtake you,” replied she.</p> + +<p>Mr. Montague took his son by the hand, and walked +up the street. He looked like a model head of the +family—so benignant and dignified on that Sabbath +morning.</p> + +<p>His wife did not overtake him till he had got half +way to church.</p> + +<p>“Why, my dear, what have you got on?” asked +Mr. Montague, when, to his horror, he saw her +clothed in a common calico dress.</p> + +<p>“My new calico,” replied she, coolly, as she took +his arm.</p> + +<p>“Are you mad, Ellen?”</p> + +<p>“It was the best I could buy with the money you +gave me.”</p> + +<p>“But you are not going to church in that shape?”</p> + +<p>“Why, Simeon, didn’t you say you were willing to +go to church with me with a calico dress on?”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! Hadn’t you sense enough to see that I +was jesting?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span></p> + +<p>“Jesting! If you were, it was the first time I ever +knew you to jest in your own house.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be foolish, Ellen.”</p> + +<p>“Come; we shall be late, and all the folks in the +street are staring at us.”</p> + +<p>“Staring at you. What a ridiculous figure you +make in that attire! Your Irish girl is better dressed +than you are.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t help it.”</p> + +<p>“Pray, go home.”</p> + +<p>“I am going to church.”</p> + +<p>“Not with me, Ellen, in that plight.”</p> + +<p>“Then I leave you,” said she, taking Franky by the +hand, and continuing her walk.</p> + +<p>Mr. Montague was bewildered. It was a very awkward +position; but the natural duplicity of his character +came to his aid, and, placing his hand upon his +forehead, as though suffering a severe headache, he +retraced his steps homeward.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_11"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Mr. Montague was greatly incensed at the conduct +of his wife; but an experience of a dozen years had +fully convinced her that her husband could not be +easily reformed. During that long period, while he +was living in plenty, was throwing away hundreds, and +she did not know but thousands, on his club, his +champagne suppers, and other selfish gratifications, she +had found it exceedingly difficult to wring from his +hard grasp the money to clothe herself and children. +To ask for it was a loathsome task, and nothing but +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span>the most urgent necessity could induce her to do so.</p> + +<p>Much as her husband had resented her conduct on +the occasion mentioned, he did not offer the means of +supplying her wants. The lady had become so disgusted +with his niggardly conduct, that she had fully +determined never to ask him for another dollar. Her +father was rich, and very indulgent to her, his only +child. To him she disclosed her grievances; and +though it was repugnant to her sense of delicacy to +speak ill of her husband, she gave her father a complete +history of her financial experience. The old +gentleman was exceedingly indignant, as a matter of +course, and stormed like a madman at the sordid +character of his son-in-law.</p> + +<p>“But don’t you say a word to him, pa, nor to any +one else,” pleaded the daughter.</p> + +<p>“I will blow him sky high! He shall never darken +my door again!”</p> + +<p>“Nay, nay, pa, for my sake, do not mention it.”</p> + +<p>The old man stopped to think.</p> + +<p>“You are right, Nellie; not a word,” said he, +rubbing his bald head.</p> + +<p>“It would sound very bad abroad, pa.”</p> + +<p>“So it would; but, Nellie, hand me that book, and +the pen and ink.”</p> + +<p>The daughter obeyed, and the old gentleman wrote +a hasty note.</p> + +<p>“Now ring the bell, Nellie.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Montague did as she was requested, and a +servant appeared.</p> + +<p>“Here, John, take that to No. 10 Court Street,” +said the old gentleman, as he opened the book and +wrote a check for five hundred dollars. “Now, Nellie, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span>spend it as fast as you can, and when that is gone, +come and get some more.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Montague kissed her fond father, and left him +to ruminate upon the astonishing fact which had been +revealed to him.</p> + +<p>“Not give her any money!” muttered he. “The +scoundrel!”</p> + +<p>His lips were frequently compressed, and occasionally +he rose and strode with hasty step across the +room. The arrival of the lawyer for whom he had +sent, seemed to relieve him.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Montague appeared the next Sunday in an +elegant brocade silk, a new bonnet, and a most magnificent +mantilla. Her husband, who was an importer +and jobber of dry goods, could readily perceive that +she wore at least two hundred dollars upon her +person. He was confounded. She had asked him for +no money lately. He was uneasy. What could it +mean? Mrs. Montague refused to answer any questions.</p> + +<p>Six months passed by, and the lady still remained +independent of her husband. She always had money +in abundance, but she positively refused to converse +upon the subject. Of course he could understand that +her father furnished her with funds. He was perplexed +to discover the circumstances under which he +supplied her. Had his wife told him that she was +refused by her husband? Had she been to her father +with her grievances? He would not have had such a +thing happen for all the world; his reputation, which +he valued more highly than his integrity, would be +sacrificed. He was sorely troubled.</p> + +<p>One day, about this time, when he came home to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span>dinner, he found that his father-in-law had been prostrated +by an apoplectic fit, and that his wife had gone +to attend him. Before he could finish his dinner, a +messenger announced his death.</p> + +<p>Mr. Montague was very much grieved, of course. +He mourned in bitterness of spirit for more than a +month after the funeral, his father-in-law was such a +kind-hearted, noble old gentleman; he thought there +were few men like him in the world.</p> + +<p>Every thing went on as usual in the Montague +family. Not a word was said about the large property +of the deceased. Mr. Montague felt some delicacy in +mentioning the subject to his wife, and no one else +appeared to know any thing about the business. He +wondered that nothing had been said to him about +being executor or administrator. Of course he was +the only proper person to execute this trust.</p> + +<p>He hinted at the matter as broadly as he dared; +but his wife refused to take the hint. One morning, +however, as he was looking over the paper, he noticed +an advertisement concerning the probate of the will; +he pointed it out to his wife.</p> + +<p>“Then your father made a will?” said he.</p> + +<p>“He did.”</p> + +<p>“I was not aware of it; but then I haven’t devoted +even a thought to his property.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Montague looked at him.</p> + +<p>“Your father was one of the best of men,” continued +he, seriously.</p> + +<p>“He was.”</p> + +<p>“Did you learn who had been named as executor?”</p> + +<p>“My uncle John.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! a capital selection; your father was an excellent +business man.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span></p> + +<p>“And three of his personal friends were appointed +trustees.”</p> + +<p>“Trustees!” exclaimed Mr. Montague, with a violent +start.</p> + +<p>“Yes; but you have not seen the will?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“I have a copy here,” said the wife, taking the +document from a drawer.</p> + +<p>With a beating heart, Mr. Montague opened the +copy, and proceeded to read it.</p> + +<p>His cheek blanched and his lip quivered as he read. +The property was much greater than he had ever +suspected, amounting to over a hundred thousand +dollars. It was all secured to his wife, to the entire +exclusion of her husband; and the instrument was so +adroitly drawn up that he could not even touch the +income of the estate without her permission.</p> + +<p>He was thunderstruck; his matrimonial hopes were +all blasted, and, what added to his chagrin, his own +affairs, in the stringency of the time, had become +hopelessly embarrassed.</p> + +<p>“What does this mean, Ellen?” asked he, in a +husky voice.</p> + +<p>“You just remarked that my father was an excellent +business man; don’t you understand it?”</p> + +<p>“If I had been a drunkard or a gambler, it would +have been plain to me. As it is, it looks like an entire +want of confidence in me, on the part of your deceased +father; not that I care about the property,” whined +Mr. Montague.</p> + +<p>“Of course you don’t care for <i>that</i>.”</p> + +<p>“I was not aware before that your father was +prejudiced against me. Did he ever mention this +matter?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Montague was silent, and the husband pressed +her for an answer.</p> + +<p>“There was something said.”</p> + +<p>“What, my dear?”</p> + +<p>“When I went to him for money, of course that +led to some explanations.”</p> + +<p>“You went to him for money?” gasped Mr. Montague.</p> + +<p>“I could not get it from you.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Montague used an exceedingly hard word, +which I dare not transfer to my page, and rushed +out of the house.</p> + +<p>In a month he failed,—made a bad failure,—and +it took him a year to get out of the difficulty. The +assignees had every thing; he could not put his hand +upon a single dollar. His domestic affairs somehow +got into the street, and nobody would trust him; +every body despised him.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Montague was not so sordid as he had +been, and when he had received a discharge from his +debts, she furnished the means for him to commence +business again. The club and champagne suppers are +abandoned; matters are reversed. The lady is always +“flush,” the gentleman generally short; and, poor +fellow, he is sometimes so hard pressed as to ask her +for a few hundred dollars “to help him out.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="TAKING_THE_NEWSPAPERS"> + TAKING THE NEWSPAPERS. + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d00'><span class='upper-case'>“Talk</span> to me about your newspapers! I tell +you, neighbor Parker, they are a consarned +humbug!” exclaimed Farmer Cheney.</p> + +<p>“That’s a great mistake of yours, neighbor. For +my part, I would rather live on two meals a day, than +be without a good newspaper.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp87" id="i_183" style="max-width: 36.625em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_183.jpg" alt="A man wearing a coat and wide-brimed hat"> +</figure> + +<p>“Git out! I wonder what the world’s a comin’ to. +There’s my gals have teased me to take Harper’s +Magazine, till I hadn’t any peace o’ my life. But I +put my foot right down; you can’t humbug me with +such trash;” and Farmer Cheney complacently wiped +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span>away the tobacco juice which was streaming down +from the corners of his mouth.</p> + +<p>“You are in the wrong, neighbor Cheney.”</p> + +<p>“No, I ain’t, nuther. Then Tom wan’t satisfied, +and nothin’ would do but I must take the American +Union and the Practical Farmer. But it wan’t no +use; I wouldn’t have the trash in the house, say +nothin’ o’ wastin’ money on it.”</p> + +<p>“Do you ever read the papers?”</p> + +<p>“Me! no, not I; I’ve got a better use for my +time.”</p> + +<p>“But the long winter evenings?”</p> + +<p>“Well, we allers have corn to shell.”</p> + +<p>“Not all winter?”</p> + +<p>“No; but when I can’t find no work to do, I’d a +nuff sight rather set in the corner, and go to sleep.”</p> + +<p>“But your son Reuben takes the papers.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but I never brought him up to do any sich +thing. He takes the Union and the Farmer both, and +stews his brains over ’em half the time. That ain’t +the wo’st on’t, nuther.”</p> + +<p>“No evil effects have followed from it, I trust?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, there has; there’s my youngest boy, Tom, +read sunthin’ or nuther over to Reuben’s t’other day +about a ‘chance for young men,’ and nothin’ll do but +he must go right into it; he’s off to Boston next +week. So much for havin’ newspapers round.”</p> + +<p>“But perhaps he may improve the opportunity, and +make money by it.”</p> + +<p>“No sich thing. He’s got two hundred dollars, +and when that’s all gone, he’ll be back again; see if +he don’t.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, my mind’s made up about it; but between +you and I and the side of that gate post, I wouldn’t +mind givin’ Reuben the price of the papers if he +only wouldn’t take ’em.”</p> + +<p>“But Reuben has the reputation of being one of +the best farmers in town.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all true enough; but he didn’t learn how +to farm it from his newspapers, let me tell you. He +was brought up in the good old way, when there +wan’t no books round but the Bible and the almanac.”</p> + +<p>“You will grant that he does not follow all the +old-fashioned methods?”</p> + +<p>“Well, pooty much all; he’s got some notions of +his own, though.”</p> + +<p>“How was it about planting corn in rows, neighbor +Cheney?”</p> + +<p>“That’s one of Reuben’s notions, to plant in rows.”</p> + +<p>“And he got seventy bushels to the acre, you +know.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but the ashes did the business.”</p> + +<p>“The ashes, the rows, and the cultivator, between +them.”</p> + +<p>“Well, there ain’t no doubt but what that’s the +best way to raise corn. At any rate, all the neighbors +foller it now.”</p> + +<p>“It is not the old-fashioned way.”</p> + +<p>“No; it’s Reuben’s way.”</p> + +<p>“Where do you suppose Reuben got it?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know; not from your darn newspapers, +though.”</p> + +<p>“But he did.”</p> + +<p>“Git out!”</p> + +<p>“It is a fact.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span></p> + +<p>“Now, neighbor Parker, you don’t mean to say +that them fellers in Boston, that never saw a cornfield +in their life, can tell me how to raise corn,” said +Farmer Cheney, a little warmly.</p> + +<p>“They have correspondents all over the country, +and the subscribers have the benefit of their united +experience.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t believe a word on’t.”</p> + +<p>But it was no use arguing the matter, and the two +farmers separated. When Farmer Cheney got home, +he found a visitor a waiting him.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_15"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>“I understood you had a large quantity of corn +for sale,” said the stranger.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ve got consider’ble, but I don’t care no +great about sellin’ it.”</p> + +<p>“I should like to buy.”</p> + +<p>“I can spare a couple o’ hund’ed bushels for a fair +price.”</p> + +<p>“What do you ask for it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know; how is corn nowadays?”</p> + +<p>“Last sales in Boston were sixty-eight to seventy +cents.”</p> + +<p>“Rather low; I meant to git seventy-one for +mine,” returned Farmer Cheney, who was disposed to +be shrewd.</p> + +<p>“What will you take for the lot?”</p> + +<p>“Seventy-one.”</p> + +<p>“Say seventy, and we won’t stand about trifles.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t do it; seventy-one is my lowest price,” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span>replied Farmer Cheney, finding that he had got an +available customer.</p> + +<p>“Split the difference, and it’s a trade,” said the +stranger, nervously.</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t do it.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll take it then. Give me a receipt for this cash +to bind the bargain.”</p> + +<p>Farmer Cheney, congratulating himself on the good +trade he had made, wrote the receipt after considerable +labor, and put the money in his pocket book.</p> + +<p>“Know of any one else who has got any corn to +sell?”</p> + +<p>“My neighbor Parker, I rather guess, has got +some.”</p> + +<p>“You won’t say a word that I paid you seventy-one +for yours? It might spoil a trade.”</p> + +<p>“Not a word,” replied Farmer Cheney.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Towards night our two farmers happened to meet +again.</p> + +<p>“Sold your corn to-day, neighbor Parker?” inquired +Farmer Cheney.</p> + +<p>“Every speck of it,” replied Parker.</p> + +<p>“Did you? What did you get?”</p> + +<p>“Eighty-one.”</p> + +<p>“How much?”</p> + +<p>“Eighty-one.”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t, though, did ye?” exclaimed the man +who would not take the newspaper.</p> + +<p>“That is just what I got, and I think I could have +got eighty-two if I had stuck a little longer.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t, though!”</p> + +<p>“The same man bought yours, I believe.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span></p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Farmer Cheney, edging off.</p> + +<p>“What did you get—eighty-two?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess I didn’t git quite that.”</p> + +<p>“O, eighty-one. Well, after all, that is a good +price, and ten cents on a bushel more than I had any +idea of getting.”</p> + +<p>“I did not get eighty-one,” replied Farmer Cheney, +rather crestfallen.</p> + +<p>He did not like to deceive his neighbor; he had +studied the Bible and the almanac enough to know +better than that; but it came “dreadful hard” to +own up the truth.</p> + +<p>“How much did you get?”</p> + +<p>“I dar’sent tell.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve got took in if the feller gave you eighty-one.”</p> + +<p>“What did you get, though, neighbor—seventy-five?”</p> + +<p>“Seventy-one.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you have been taken in, then; I guess you +haven’t heard the news.”</p> + +<p>“No—what?”</p> + +<p>“Crops failed in the west.”</p> + +<p>“How you talk!”</p> + +<p>“And the prospect of a war in Europe; so that +our breadstuffs will be extensively exported, which +run up the price of flour and grain.”</p> + +<p>“What war?”</p> + +<p>“Between Russia and Turkey.”</p> + +<p>“Turkey! Well, I hope them cu’sed Turks will +get licked!” exclaimed Farmer Cheney, whose ideas +were somewhat antiquated.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span></p> + +<p>“You differ from the world in general. The sympathies +of all civilized nations go with Turkey in this +quarrel.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t say so! When I was a boy, the +schoolmaster used to teach us to hate the Turks. They +are a barbarous race.”</p> + +<p>“I think, neighbor Cheney, you will confess now +that you had better take a paper.”</p> + +<p>“Confess no sich thing; I wouldn’t have one round +the house.”</p> + +<p>“If you had taken the papers, you would have +known about this rise in grain.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I should; but Reuben generally tells me +about these things.”</p> + +<p>“It was only in the paper that came to-day; I +read it since I saw you this morning. But I should +no more think of selling any thing of any consequence +without seeing how the Boston markets were, +than I should think of cutting my own throat.”</p> + +<p>“Kind of a dog’s life to be tied to a newspaper,” +sneered Farmer Cheney.</p> + +<p>“But if you had taken a newspaper, neighbor, and +read it, you would have made twenty dollars by it in +this one trade; twenty dollars, neighbor—enough to +pay for the paper ten years.”</p> + +<p>“Git out! These things look well enough as you +book farmers figger ’em up; but, you see, when you +come to the scratch, they ain’t nowhere.”</p> + +<p>“It looks to me like a plain case.”</p> + +<p>“Now, ’spose I could make twenty dollars by takin’ +the paper; it would do me a darn sight more +mischief than that.”</p> + +<p>“How?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span></p> + +<p>“Why, the newspaper puts the very devil in the +gals’ heads. Now, they never use to have their +cu’sed picnics round here, till the gals got to readin’ +on ’em in the papers. And then the buryin’ ground, +they couldn’t even let that alone. Some feller put a +piece in the paper about Mount Auburn, Sorrel Hill, +Greenbush, and some sich place, and the fust thing +we know the gravestones are all jumbled up in a +heap, gravel is carted in, and posies set out all over +it. Now they call it a ‘symmetry,’ I b’leve.”</p> + +<p>“A cemetery, neighbor; but we who read the +newspapers like these things. There is something +pleasant in ornamenting with flowers the resting place +of our dead.”</p> + +<p>“It looks to me more like ‘sacrelation.’”</p> + +<p>“Sacrilege! O, no; far from it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I think so; and then we’ve got to have +new school houses, a new town house, and the roads +must all be ‘McDonalized.’”</p> + +<p>“McAdamized.”</p> + +<p>“Well, no matter what it is; it all comes of these +cu’sed newspapers. My taxes are twenty dollars a +year more than they used to be.”</p> + +<p>“And you sell the produce of your farm for five +hundred dollars more.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s true; but there’s no kind of need of +makin’ the taxes any more, all for newspapers.”</p> + +<p>“But you must think how much better and wiser +your family would be with a newspaper to read.”</p> + +<p>“By mighty! I should think they would! Only +look at Deacon Craig’s folks. Them gals cost him a +fortin every year in books and new gowns. The +newspapers won’t do; they must have books, and +waste half their time readin’ on em.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span></p> + +<p>“But it is a very worthy and intelligent family, +and the deacon’s income, owing to his more enlightened +method of conducting business, is at least ten +times as great as it used to be, and he can well afford +to spend all he does in educating his children.”</p> + +<p>“No use o’ talkin’ about it; give me the good old +way; and when I’m dead, I ain’t at all particular +about havin’ buttercups and whiteweed growin’ on my +grave;” and Farmer Cheney went off, “wondering +what the world was coming to.”</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_12"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>About a year after their conversations, Tom Cheney +came home to visit his father. The ambitious youth, +who had acquired half his education by reading the +newspapers, had not written his father concerning his +business prospects.</p> + +<p>“Why, Tom, what have you been about all this +time?” asked the old gentleman, as he surveyed +Tom’s spruce appearance.</p> + +<p>“Making money, father,” replied the hopeful son.</p> + +<p>“Have you made any, Tom?”</p> + +<p>“A little.”</p> + +<p>“A little! Guess you’d better staid at home, and +worked on the farm. You was doin’ well here.”</p> + +<p>“Done pretty well as it is.”</p> + +<p>“How much you made, Tom?”</p> + +<p>“Five thousand.”</p> + +<p>“Git out! You are jokin’, Tom.”</p> + +<p>“True as preaching.”</p> + +<p>“How did you do it?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, I went into that ‘chance for young men;’ +but that wan’t much; so I looked into the newspapers +for something better.”</p> + +<p>“Newspapers again,” sneered Farmer Cheney.</p> + +<p>“The first thing I saw was, that peaches were selling +down south for ten cents a bushel, while they +brought two dollars here. You see, the risk of transporting +them makes the difference. Then I saw in +the same paper that preserved peaches brought two +shillings a pound north; so I put that and that +together, and hatched out a speculation. I bought the +sugar, and sent it down to Delaware, where the +peaches were cheap, and went to making preserves +there. In this way I made money.”</p> + +<p>“You are a shrewd one, Tom.”</p> + +<p>“All owing to the newspapers, father.”</p> + +<p>“Git out!”</p> + +<p>“I see by the papers that the Chinese empire has +been divided, and the rebels are in a fair way of +making China a Christian country. I have a great +notion of going out there to establish a line of stages +between Shanghae and Nankin. What do you think +about it?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t know what to think. I’m done thinkin’; +but, Tom, when you go to Boston again, just drop in +and tell ’em to send me the American Union and the +Practical Farmer for one year. Here’s the three +dollars.”</p> + +<p>“Bravo! you are a brick, after all, pa!”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CIGARS_FOR_TWO"> + “CIGARS FOR TWO;” + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>OR</span>, + <br> + <span class='allsmcap ls2'>CURING A SMOKER.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<img class="drop-cap w33" src="images/i_193.jpg" alt="Y" style="max-width: 18em;"> + +<p class='drop-cap d10'><span class='upper-case'>“Smokes</span>, does he? The abominable +wretch!” exclaimed +Mrs. Volant to her friend, Mrs. +Washburn, a young wife who +had just gone to housekeeping.</p> + +<p>“He smokes, but he is not +an abominable wretch—I am +sure he is not,” replied Mrs. +Washburn, a little startled by +the hard name applied to her +husband, whom she both loved +and esteemed.</p> + +<p>“Not a wretch?”</p> + +<p>“No, I’m sure he is not!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, he is; any husband, especially one who has +been married only a year, and won’t leave off smoking +when his wife desires it, must be a wretch.”</p> + +<p>“No, you overstate the case. He is every thing a +husband ought to be—so kind, so devoted, so indulgent. +But then, I do wish he would not smoke.”</p> + +<p>“You must break him of it—the cruel monster.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span></p> + +<p>“Nay, do not call him such hard names; I love +him with all my heart, though he does smoke.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I suppose you do; young wives are apt to +be foolish.”</p> + +<p>“Foolish!”</p> + +<p>“Yes; he sees, I dare say, that you love him, and +so he takes the advantage of you.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Mrs. Volant, don’t you love your husband?”</p> + +<p>“Well, suppose I do; there is no need of telling +him of it. I make him think I don’t care any thing +about him. Why, I can manage him as easily as I +could a kitten.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t like that; I think there ought to be love +and confidence between man and wife.”</p> + +<p>“Pooh!”</p> + +<p>“You cannot be happy with him.”</p> + +<p>“I should not be if I became his slave.”</p> + +<p>“Not his slave!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you believe it! When you have been married +as long as I have, you will get rid of some of +these sentimental notions, which answer very well for +the first year or so, but become very inconvenient +after that.”</p> + +<p>“For my part, I always mean to love my husband +as much as I do now, even if it is sentimental.”</p> + +<p>“See if you do! Husbands must be carefully +managed, or they become tyrants. Now, my husband +smoked the first year after marriage; but then he +was a little careful about bringing his cigar into the +house, for I told him, up and down, I wouldn’t have +it.”</p> + +<p>“I should suppose he would have rebelled.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span></p> + +<p>“He did, but not at first. One night, nearly a +year after we were married, he brought home a whole +bundle of cigars, and put them on the mantel-piece. +Taking one, he very coolly lighted it, and proceeded +to read the evening paper.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just the way my husband does.”</p> + +<p>“I was downright mad at his impudence; but I +did not say a word. The next day I bought a monstrous +great snuff box, and filled it full of rappee. +In the evening he lighted his cigar as before; but +no sooner had he done so, than I seated myself opposite +to him, and drawing out my snuff box, I took +a generous pinch, snuffing the filthy stuff into my +nostrils, at the risk of sneezing my head off.”</p> + +<p>“How funny!”</p> + +<p>“My husband did not think so. He looked at me +with astonishment. ‘You take snuff?’ said he. ‘I +do; at least, I mean to learn,’ I replied. ‘It is a +filthy habit,’ says he. ‘No worse than smoking,’ says +I. We debated the matter for a long time, and at +last he gave up the point, and promised to throw +away his cigars if I would throw away my snuff. +My point was gained, and of course I gave up my +snuff.”</p> + +<p>“And he never smoked any more?” asked Mrs. +Washburn, laughing.</p> + +<p>“Yes, he began once after; but I took to the snuff +again, and he gave it up.”</p> + +<p>“Are you sure he don’t smoke now?”</p> + +<p>“If he does, he never lets me see him. My sitting +room is not all smoked up as yours is.”</p> + +<p>“It was a glorious trick!”</p> + +<p>“That it was, and I advise you to try it upon Mr. +Washburn.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span></p> + +<p>“I! I couldn’t take a pinch of snuff any more than +I could swallow an elephant.”</p> + +<p>“Smoke, then. There are some nice little cigars sold +at the apothecaries, made on purpose for ladies. They +are so mild that they wouldn’t make you sick; though, +even if they did, you wouldn’t mind, so they cure +your husband of smoking.”</p> + +<p>“It seems too bad to play such a trick upon him—he +is always so kind, and permits me to do just as I +please,” said the tender-hearted Mrs. Washburn.</p> + +<p>“What else could he do?”</p> + +<p>“It looks kind of mean to me.”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know as it would succeed.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense! I am sure it would. He never would +let you smoke, for these husbands have an awful +horror of any impropriety in their wives.”</p> + +<p>“Then, he says he has always smoked, and can’t +leave it off.”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! The old story!”</p> + +<p>“I am almost tempted to try it.”</p> + +<p>“I would.”</p> + +<p>“It seems so unkind, though, that I have hardly +the heart to do it.”</p> + +<p>“You are notional, my dear Mrs. Washburn. When +you have been married—”</p> + +<p>The remark was broken off by the abrupt entrance +of the “abominable wretch” himself. Mrs. Washburn +rose as he entered, and in spite of the abominable +odor that his breath must have exhaled, printed a kiss +upon his tobacco-stained lips.</p> + +<p>The lady “who had been married several years” +was disgusted, and after a few words concerning the +weather, took her leave.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span></p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_16"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Mrs. Washburn was a pretty, affectionate, gentle-hearted +wife. Her whole existence was bound up in +her husband, as well it might be; for never was husband +more devoted to his wife than he was. To our +mind she was a model wife; none of your stormy +vixens, that set their hearts upon attaining a point, +and will pull the house down upon your head but they +<i>will</i> attain it.</p> + +<p>In her eye, Mr. Washburn had only one fault; and +that was the villainous habit of smoking, which all +her eloquence had been powerless to overcome. She +didn’t “put her foot down,” as her friend, Mrs. Volant, +had done; for—poor, gentle-hearted creature—she +couldn’t think of provoking a quarrel with him, +and had about concluded to make the best of it, and +let him smoke in peace.</p> + +<p>But there was something so irresistibly funny about +Mrs. Volant’s plan, that she determined to try it, and, +accordingly, on the afternoon of the next day, she +sent the Irish girl to the apothecary’s shop for a +bunch of “Bagdad cigars.” Disposing a few of them +in her work basket, ready for the momentous occasion, +her mind pictured the scene that would ensue +when she should light one of them. It was so funny +that she laughed out loud at the idea. Wouldn’t he +be surprised to see her, who had teased him so much +to leave off smoking, commence the practice herself! +Wouldn’t his eyes stick out, when he should see her +puffing a cigar at her sewing, as he did when he read +the evening paper!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span></p> + +<p>She was so pleased with the plan, that she would +have put it in execution, even if it had been only for +the sport it promised her, independently of any good +result which might flow from it. Wouldn’t he beg +her to smoke no more! Wouldn’t he be mortified, +and wouldn’t she win the day, and glory over his defeat! +Wouldn’t he be glad to promise her that he +wouldn’t smoke another cigar as long as he lived! +She was so delighted that she could hardly contain +herself.</p> + +<p>Mr. Washburn came home to tea, and, as usual +when he entered the house, he gave her a kiss, and a +tender greeting. They were seated at the tea table; +Mrs. Washburn was so full of mirth, that she came +near scalding herself with the hot tea when she poured +it out. Her merry, mischievous laugh rang pleasantly +on her husband’s ear, who, poor fellow, could +have had no idea of the terrible ordeal through which +he was doomed to pass.</p> + +<p>When tea was over, the astral lamp transferred to +the lightstand, and Mr. Washburn had stretched himself +into a comfortable position in the large easy rocking +chair, with his legs lazily reposing in another +chair, the everlasting cigar was produced, lighted, and +began to diffuse its fragrance through the room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Washburn could hardly control her inclination +to burst into a laugh at the mere thought of what she +was about to do. Seating herself at the side of the +table opposite her husband, she took from the work +basket, with an air as brave and solemn as a judge, +one of the “Bagdads.” Placing the filthy roll between +her ruby lips, she glanced at her husband.</p> + +<p>“Now, Mr. Smoker,” thought she,—it would have +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span> +spoiled the joke to have said it,—“we will see +whether you don’t abandon that nasty habit.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Washburn happened to glance at her; but, +contrary to her expectation, he manifested no surprise, +and went on reading the Transcript.</p> + +<p>“So, so, Mr. Smoker,” thought she again, “you +think I am joking, do you? I will soon convince +you;” and the lady took a taper, and applied a light +to the cigar.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Washburn was rather inexperienced in +the <i>modus operandi</i> of lighting a cigar, and she was +unable to make it “go.” She lit another taper, and +puffed away with all her might; but the Bagdad was +as resolute as the great caliph himself. She persevered, +till her extraordinary exertions again attracted +the attention of Mr. Washburn.</p> + +<p>“You are lighting the wrong end, my dear,” said +he, with the utmost <i>nonchalance</i>.</p> + +<p>“How provoking he is!” thought Mrs. Washburn. +“Why don’t he remonstrate?”</p> + +<p>“You should bite off the twisted end, and then put +it in your mouth,” continued the husband, turning to +the paper again.</p> + +<p>Aided by these directions, the lady took another +cigar, which she succeeded in lighting. The first +taste of the tobacco smoke was horrible; but she had +determined to be a martyr for her husband’s sake; +and taking her sewing, she continued to puff away as +she plied her needle, till a certain nausea compelled +her to abandon the experiment for that time. Casting +the Bagdad into the grate, she began to wish she had +not listened to Mrs. Volant.</p> + +<p>“What is the matter, my dear? Wasn’t it a good +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span>cigar? Try mine; they are Monte Christos of the +first quality,” and the imperturbable Mr. Washburn +offered her a choice from his case.</p> + +<p>“No, I thank you, my dear; I will not smoke any +more to-night.”</p> + +<p>“But what’s the matter, Mary? You are as pale +as a sheet!”</p> + +<p>“I feel a little faint; I shall be better in a moment,” +and Mrs. Washburn was obliged to leave the +room.</p> + +<p>Poor woman! she was sick all the evening! But +the next day, Mrs. Volant, who had called to learn +the success of the experiment, advised her to try +again, assuring her it would not make her sick the +second time.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_13"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Mr. Washburn had a couple of his intimate friends +at his house to play a game of whist the next evening, +and the devoted wife resolved to try the effect of +a smoke in their presence.</p> + +<p>When the party were seated, Mr. Washburn passed +round his cigar case.</p> + +<p>“Won’t you smoke, my dear?” asked he, tendering +the cigars to his wife.</p> + +<p>“I will; but you know, Joseph, that I never smoke +<i>your</i> cigars; they do not suit my taste.”</p> + +<p>Whew! that was cool!</p> + +<p>Mrs. Washburn lit a Bagdad.</p> + +<p>“Is it possible you smoke, Mrs. Washburn?” asked +Mr. Barnes, astonished at the singular spectacle of a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>woman puffing away at a cigar, for all the world, like +a loafer in a bar room.</p> + +<p>“Occasionally, just to please my husband,” replied +Mrs. Washburn, after she had blown out a long wreath +of blue smoke.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Barnes,” interposed Mr. Washburn; “it is +more sociable, you know, to have company when one +smokes. We are generally alone in the evening, and +she is so kind as to smoke with me. Ah, Barnes, +teach <i>your</i> wife to smoke, it is so pleasant to smoke +with one’s wife.”</p> + +<p>The lady was thunderstruck. Was it possible that +he had no more respect for the proprieties of life +than that? She smoke? She had already acquired +the reputation of being a smoker, without having produced +any of the anticipated good results.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Washburn threw the lighted Bagdad into the +stove. She had almost cried with vexation.</p> + +<p>“Not smoke, my dear?” said her husband.</p> + +<p>“I think you can be sociable to-night, if I don’t +smoke.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Do</i> smoke, my dear; it gives me so much pleasure +to see <i>you</i> enjoy a good cigar.”</p> + +<p>“That’s too bad, Joseph.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Washburn laughed outright, and throwing down +his cards, explained the event of the preceding +evening.</p> + +<p>“I will own up; I did it to break him of the habit. +I give it up!”</p> + +<p>When the gentlemen had taken their leave, Mrs. +Washburn explained by whose advice she had adopted +the plan.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Volant has the reputation of being a perfect +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span>shrew. Her husband is a laughing stock for all State +Street. She is a bad adviser.”</p> + +<p>“How slick you have turned the joke upon me!” +said Mrs. Washburn, laughing heartily.</p> + +<p>“To tell the truth, I overheard some of your conversation +when the plot was laid.”</p> + +<p>“O, ho! you did? No wonder it failed, then.”</p> + +<p>“I did; but, Mary, are you so very much against +my smoking? I love the weed, but I love you more;” +and Mr. Washburn kissed her tenderly.</p> + +<p>“Nay, I will say no more about it. Perhaps I was +selfish.”</p> + +<p>“Not selfish; I will leave it off, my dear, for your +sake.”</p> + +<p>“No, no; I don’t want you to do so. If you are +so very fond of smoking, I never will say another +word about it.”</p> + +<p>And Mr. Washburn has smoked his cigar in peace +ever since.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="OUT_OF_BUSINESS"> + “OUT OF BUSINESS;” + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>OR</span>, + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>THE HISTORY OF A SPLENDID “BUST-UP.”</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d00'>“Out of business, are you, Ned? Well, that is +bad,” said Mr. Joseph Murdock, a stock +broker, to his nephew.</p> + +<p>“Decidedly bad.”</p> + +<p>“But why did you leave Green & Smith? That +is a good concern.”</p> + +<p>“Salary was too small.”</p> + +<p>“Better than you get <i>now</i>, at all events,” replied +the worthy old gentleman, with a look of displeasure.</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t pay my way on it.”</p> + +<p>“Not on five hundred dollars!” and ‘uncle Joe,’ +as he was commonly called, held up both hands in +astonishment.</p> + +<p>“I am in debt at this moment,” returned Ned, +with a rueful glance at his uncle.</p> + +<p>“And likely to be. Of course you don’t expect to +pay your debts by wandering about the streets.”</p> + +<p>“I expect to find business again.”</p> + +<p>“You do not expect to get five hundred dollars +the first year, do you?”</p> + +<p>“I intend to strike for a thousand.”</p> + +<p>“Strike! you won’t hit it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span></p> + +<p>“Perhaps I shall.”</p> + +<p>“Ned, you are going to the deuse as fast as high +living and dissipation in general will carry you.”</p> + +<p>“Why, uncle, I’m sure you don’t know me.”</p> + +<p>“Sit down, Ned; let us talk it over. I want a +young man in my office, and perhaps we can make a +trade.”</p> + +<p>“Thousand dollars, uncle Joseph;” and Ned Murdock +attempted to look sly.</p> + +<p>“Not out of me, Ned.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t live on less.”</p> + +<p>“Better die then. I want a young man to assist +my bookkeeper, run of errands——”</p> + +<p>“An errand boy, you mean;” and Ned felt hurt +at the slight put upon his dignity.</p> + +<p>“An errand boy, then. My clerk intends to go +into business for himself one of these days, and if +you are attentive to business, here is an opportunity +to advance yourself;” and uncle Joe looked seriously +into the face of his nephew.</p> + +<p>“What is the salary?”</p> + +<p>“Four hundred, for the present.”</p> + +<p>“I should starve on it.”</p> + +<p>“Live within your means. When I was of your +age, I lived on two hundred.”</p> + +<p>“Times have changed since then.”</p> + +<p>“What do you pay for board, Ned?”</p> + +<p>“Six dollars a week. I board at a hotel.”</p> + +<p>“Six dollars a week! Ned, you are crazy;” and +uncle Joe’s eyes stuck out “like two tallow candles.”</p> + +<p>“Two of us room together in the attic, so that +they board us low.”</p> + +<p>“Should think they did—low for them, but high +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span>for you. Costs you a hundred for clothes, I suppose, +don’t it?”</p> + +<p>“About that,” replied Ned, evasively.</p> + +<p>“Do you go to the ‘play’ often?”</p> + +<p>“Not above once a week, except when there are +‘stars’ on.”</p> + +<p>“Not <i>above</i> once a week! Ned, you are an extravagant +dog; you will die in the poorhouse!”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! Uncle Joseph, <i>you</i> are old-fashioned!”</p> + +<p>“If it is old-fashioned to live within one’s means, +to pay one’s debts, and wear an honest face, then—thank +God!—I <i>am</i> old-fashioned,” replied the +worthy old gentleman, with considerable spirit.</p> + +<p>“I mean to be honest, and practise all your old-fashioned +virtues.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t do it, Ned, on five hundred dollars a +year with your habits.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t be honest?”</p> + +<p>“No; it is not honest to run up a bill at your +tailor’s which you have not the ability to pay; it is +not honest to get in debt to support extravagant +habits.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to say that I am <i>dis</i>honest, +uncle Joseph?” asked the young man, with a blush +on his cheek.</p> + +<p>“Well, well, we won’t talk about <i>that</i>, now. I +want a young man, and if you have a mind to lay +aside your extravagances, and go into my office determined +to stick to your business, I will see to +the rest.”</p> + +<p>“What salary shall I have, uncle Joseph?”</p> + +<p>“Four hundred the first year,” replied uncle +Joseph, firmly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span></p> + +<p>“But I can’t live on that.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you can. Leave your hotel and board in a +private family. Quit the theatre and the opera, and +pay as you go.”</p> + +<p>“But my debts?”</p> + +<p>“How much do you owe?”</p> + +<p>“About two hundred and fifty dollars.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Joe scratched his head, contracted his eyebrows, +and looked decidedly stormy.</p> + +<p>“Bad business, Ned,” said he, after a few moments’ +consideration. “I could easily get you out +of the scrape, provided I saw any hope of amendment +on your part. You don’t even say that you +will reform.”</p> + +<p>“To be serious, uncle Joseph, I can’t see how I +can reform. I must <i>live</i>, you know.”</p> + +<p>“And you must live within your means.”</p> + +<p>At this moment the penny post deposited a letter +on the table, by the side of the stock broker, the +contents of which perfectly amazed him.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_17"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>The letter was from the attorney of Miss Mary +Marker, a maiden aunt of Ned Murdock, formerly +residing at the west. It contained the intelligence +of the spinster’s death. The old lady, +happening to have a fit of generosity when she made +her will, had bequeathed to her graceless nephew the +sum of ten thousand dollars.</p> + +<p>Here was a godsend, and Ned leaped up six feet +in the air, with astonishment and delight.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span></p> + +<p>But the worthy stock broker was troubled; for +although he was a broker, he was a good Christian, +and had the welfare of his dissolute nephew near his +heart. There was something about the youth that he +liked, notwithstanding he went to the play and boarded +at a fashionable hotel.</p> + +<p>His only object was the reformation of the young +man, whose ruin and premature decay were foreshadowed +in his daily habits. His proposition to +employ him in his own office was merely a stratagem +to obtain a hold upon him.</p> + +<p>This legacy seemed to step between him and the +accomplishment of his benevolent purpose.</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do with this money, Ned?” +asked he with a troubled countenance; “I am +named, as your guardian, you perceive.”</p> + +<p>“Bah, guardian! I am twenty-one next week, +uncle Joseph,” replied the young man, unable to conceal +the elation the astounding intelligence had produced +in his mind.</p> + +<p>“True; but this legacy may be the ruin of you, +Ned.”</p> + +<p>“You are absurd, uncle.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry your aunt died so soon; I wish she +could have been prevailed upon to live till you had +come to the years of discretion.”</p> + +<p>“If I had known she intended to remember me in +her will, I should certainly have expressed my desire +that she might have lived forever, or some such +hyperbole.”</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do, Ned? It is rather a +serious question.”</p> + +<p>“Time enough to decide it when I get the money.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span></p> + +<p>“Take my advice Ned; settle yourself down in +some quiet position; get another clerkship; don’t go +into business till you are more experienced in the +ways of the world. You had better accept my +offer, and take your first lesson in learning to live +within your means.”</p> + +<p>“Be an errand boy on four hundred dollars a year, +when I have ten thousand dollars in my possession? +Did they do so in old times?” and Ned bestowed a +good-natured sneer upon his quiet old uncle.</p> + +<p>“They learned to creep before they walked. If +it will make any difference, I will give you the same +salary you received at Green & Smith’s.”</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t think of it, uncle Joseph. A thousand +would not procure my services <i>now</i>.”</p> + +<p>The stock broker sighed. Ned was as good as +lost, in his opinion. There was no hope for him, and +much as it troubled him, he saw no method of preventing +the catastrophe.</p> + +<p>For an hour longer, uncle Joe tried to prevail upon +his wilful nephew to adopt a system of prudent living, +and preserve his capital until a favorable opportunity +occurred for investing it.</p> + +<p>Ned was resolute. Visions of balls, operas, +theatres, fast horses, and a rich wife, flitted before his +excited imagination. The sum of ten thousand dollars +appeared to be inexhaustible. In vain uncle Joe +reasoned that its possession was only equivalent to +an income of six hundred dollars. Ned was sure of +being worth twenty thousand in five years, and fifty +in ten. It never occurred to him that fast horses +and the opera could not be supported without encroaching +upon the principal.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span></p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_14"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>While they were debating the question, Tom Murdock, +a cousin of Ned, entered the office.</p> + +<p>“Ah, Tom,” said Ned, “here we are; I had quite +forgotten to inform our good uncle that you too were +out of business.”</p> + +<p>“Is it possible!” exclaimed uncle Joseph. “Both +out of business? I hope you have not been foolish, +Tom.”</p> + +<p>“No, uncle, Tom is never foolish—one of your +dignified boys—proper, and all that sort of thing,” +replied Ned.</p> + +<p>“My services were no longer required. You +know I only supplied the place of another,” added +Tom.</p> + +<p>“You have been there three months.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“On thirty dollars a month!” added Ned, “and +saved money at that. Tom will just fit your place, +uncle.”</p> + +<p>“Do you want a clerk, uncle Joseph?” asked +Tom, meekly.</p> + +<p>“I thought of having another; but it is very +small pay,” answered the stock broker, a little +nettled; for he had created the want only to save +the reputation of Ned.</p> + +<p>“I should be very glad to enter your service, +even at a small salary. Anything is better than +being out of business.”</p> + +<p>“Right, Tom, right!” exclaimed the old gentleman. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span>“The salary is four hundred, and you shall +have the place.”</p> + +<p>And Tom took the place, while Ned, instead of +adopting his uncle’s excellent advice, moved down +two flights at the hotel, rode out to Porter’s every +day, and went to the opera every night.</p> + +<p>In due time the legacy reached uncle Joseph, who +placed Ned in full possession.</p> + +<p>In another month a large gilt sign, bearing the +“name and style” of a new firm, (E. Murdock & +Co.,) astonished the mercantile world, and Ned was +no longer out of business.</p> + +<p>The dignity of the new firm—the “Co.” was +merely a flourish of the artist’s pencil to give <i>éclat</i> +to the thing—demanded that the senior partner +should have a wife. Fortunately for the felicitous +carrying out of Ned’s idea on this subject, things +had for several months been progressing towards this +event.</p> + +<p>Our young merchant had paid his addresses to the +daughter of a mercantile man, reputed to be wealthy; +and now that he “had come to his possessions,” +there was no obstacle to an immediate marriage.</p> + +<p>A house in a fashionable street was procured; the +cage being ready, the bird was caught, and Ned +found himself in the full enjoyment of life. He was +no nigger, and things went on swimmingly. Dinner +parties, and tea parties, and evening parties followed +each other in rapid succession.</p> + +<p>Money flowed like water. Notes on three, six, and +nine months were given, and Ned said the business +was bound to prosper.</p> + +<p>One half of his legacy only had been invested in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span>his business at the commencement of the operation. +Six, nine, and twelve months did the rest. But his +housekeeping affairs absorbed the other half in less +than six months. His wife was from a rich family, +he reasoned, and must be supported in state.</p> + +<p>At the end of those six months, when the first of +the notes became due, Ned was not a little astonished +to find that he had nothing to pay them with. He +looked over his books to see where the ten thousand +had gone to; it was only dust in the balance when +weighed against his business and his family expenditures.</p> + +<p>Bad debts and unfortunate speculations stared him +in the face from every page, and Ned began to be a +little troubled. A dim consciousness that he had +been going too fast crept into his mind. It was a +disagreeable reflection, and when he went home to +dinner that day, he dodged round a corner to avoid +meeting uncle Joe.</p> + +<p>In the mean time, Tom had acquitted himself to +the entire satisfaction of his uncle. The head clerk +had left, and he had been installed in his place. +Living within his means, indulging in no fashionable +dissipations, the future was bright with hope.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_IV"> + <i>CHAPTER IV.</i> +</h3> + +<p>One morning, while Ned was pondering the unsatisfactory +state of his affairs, a neighbor brought +him the news of the failure of his wife’s father.</p> + +<p>Ned was horrified, for, it must be confessed, that +in his present emergency, he had based some rather +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span>extravagant hopes on the fact of having a rich +father-in-law.</p> + +<p>It was a heavy stroke to his philosophy. The little +financial theory based upon his rich wife, which he +had matured to meet the approaching emergency, +suddenly and violently exploded.</p> + +<p>A five hundred dollar note came due that day, and +he had been thinking of dropping into his father-in-law’s +counting-room about one o’clock, to see if he +had “any thing over.”</p> + +<p>The thought of applying to uncle Joe occurred to +him; but the worthy old gentleman was too blunt +by half, and would be likely to tell him some homely +truths.</p> + +<p>The day wore away with vain devisings of means +to extricate himself from his embarrassments. The +note was not paid—was protested.</p> + +<p>The next day, people, who had long suspected that +Ned was travelling too fast, began to see with a +clear vision the true state of the case. Before two +o’clock, Ned was in chancery!</p> + +<p>“How is this, Ned?” asked uncle Joseph, entering +the counting room.</p> + +<p>“Don’t mention it, uncle; don’t mention it! +Before you say a word, I will own that you were all +right, and I was all wrong,” replied Ned, groaning +in spirit.</p> + +<p>“I did not come to reproach you, Ned; far from +it. I gave the best advice I was capable of giving; +but as you did not deem it advisable to follow it, of +course I shall not taunt you in your troubles.”</p> + +<p>This was kind of uncle Joseph, and it was spoken +in a kindly manner, without the slightest appearance +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span>of that triumphant “I knew it would be so,” which +wise old men sometimes assume. It went to Ned’s +heart, for Ned had a heart, notwithstanding the little +foibles of his character.</p> + +<p>“Why did you not come to me for assistance, +Ned? I always meant well by you.”</p> + +<p>“My case was a hopeless one; and to tell the +truth, uncle Joseph, after what passed between us, +I was ashamed to meet you.”</p> + +<p>“Fie, Ned!” and the old gentleman was highly +flattered by his nephew’s humility.</p> + +<p>“I wish I had accepted your offer, even at a +salary of four hundred dollars a year. I should have +been a great deal better off now.”</p> + +<p>“Well, well, we will not mind that now. The +place is still open.”</p> + +<p>“Is it?” asked Ned, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Tom is my head clerk. Of course I could not +displace him.”</p> + +<p>“No, certainly not.”</p> + +<p>“But as you have a wife, I will make the salary +six hundred now.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, uncle; I will gladly accept the +place.”</p> + +<p>Ned did accept it, and though it was a sad fall +from his former position, he took his place at the +desk in his uncle’s office as the assistant of Tom, +with the best grace in the world.</p> + +<p>It is surprising how misfortunes will humble a +man; how they will make him accept with joy a +position at which, in the days of his prosperity, he +turned up his nose in disgust.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Murdock, was, in the main, a sensible person, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span>and made the best of her altered circumstances. +Three rooms in a retired street were obtained, to +supply the place of the fashionable residence in +Tremont street, and the young couple went to housekeeping +on a reduced scale.</p> + +<p>Ned kept within his means this time. The humiliation +of his fall gradually wore away, and he was +surprised to find himself and his wife much happier +than when they had been surrounded by all the +appliances of wealth and luxury.</p> + +<p>Ned remained three years with uncle Joseph, who +annually increased his salary, thus enabling him to +add to the comforts of life, and still keep within +his means.</p> + +<p>At the end of this period, the old gentleman, +finding himself old enough and rich enough to +retire, gave up his business to his two nephews, +who, we are happy to record, are now doing remarkably +well.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Moral.</span>—When you are out of business, do not +be over nice; and when you have a legacy left to +you, do not be rash.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="SIX_MONTHS_AFTER_DATE"> + “SIX MONTHS AFTER DATE.” + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<img class="drop-cap w50" src="images/i_215.jpg" alt="Y" style="max-width: 18em;"> + + +<p class='drop-cap d10'><span class='upper-case'>“You</span> are of course +aware of the object +of my repeated visits +at your house, Mr. +Miller?” stammered +George Harrison to +the father of his intended.</p> + +<p>“O, yes, of course,” +replied the father, +carelessly.</p> + +<p>“And you must +be favorably disposed +towards the matter, +or you would not +have permitted it to +continue as long as +it has.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Harrison, those are affairs that I don’t +like to meddle with, though my opinion is, a great +deal of judgment ought to be used in relation to +them.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, sir; they affect the parties for life,” +replied George, seriously.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span></p> + +<p>“You do not intend to be married at present, do +you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir; we have been thinking of it; that is, +not under a month.”</p> + +<p>“A month! Pray, Mr. Harrison, what have you +got to support a wife with?” asked the careful +father, gazing with considerable astonishment into the +face of the candidate for matrimony.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, I have not got much now, it is true; but +I think I shall be able to pay my way.”</p> + +<p>“You <i>think</i> so, but you may be laboring under a +mistake. Young men are apt to be rash.”</p> + +<p>“I am going into business, as you are aware, next +week. I have hired a store, and have no doubt I +shall do well.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose not. Have you the capital wherewith to +stock your store?”</p> + +<p>“My capital is small, but I have friends.”</p> + +<p>“Every body has friends. Who are they?”</p> + +<p>“There is Mr. Redman, who offers to let me +have half my stock on six months.”</p> + +<p>“And the other half?”</p> + +<p>“I can obtain it on the same terms from other +parties.”</p> + +<p>“And you propose to lay in all your stock on six +months’ credit?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Rather a dangerous scheme, young man.”</p> + +<p>“I think not. I have no doubt that I shall be able +to sell goods enough to pay most of the notes; if +not, I can easily get them renewed.”</p> + +<p>“You are confident.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I am vain; but I trust a great deal to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>my ability as a salesman. Why, Smith, Jones, & Co. +offered me a thousand dollars for the next year if I +would stay with them.”</p> + +<p>“You had better accept the offer, young man.”</p> + +<p>“I think not; if I am worth a thousand dollars to +them, I am worth it to myself. No, sir; I mean to +have the benefit of my own talents.”</p> + +<p>“Bah!” exclaimed the prudent Mr. Miller.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I <i>am</i> vain.”</p> + +<p>“You are, Mr. Harrison. You will find that your +ability in a concern like that of Smith, Jones, & Co. +is much more available than it would be in your own +hands.”</p> + +<p>“We differ in that matter,” replied George Harrison, +with some display of wounded dignity. “If you +please, we will turn to the subject to which my present +visit relates.”</p> + +<p>“To be sure, young man, if you wish. I have no +desire to force my advice upon you, though I cannot +help thinking you had better heed the counsel of those +who are older and more experienced than you are.”</p> + +<p>“I am very willing to hear any advice.”</p> + +<p>“More willing to hear it than to follow it.”</p> + +<p>“I wish to be reasonable. If a young man never +attempts to better his condition, it is plain that he +never will get ahead in the world.”</p> + +<p>“Very true; but let him labor as hard as he may, +without proper discretion, he never will succeed.”</p> + +<p>“You question my judgment, do you, sir?” asked +George, rather sharply.</p> + +<p>“Excuse me, Mr. Harrison, but I do. The relation +in which you stand to my family prompts me to speak +very plain. No man in his senses would stock his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span>store on six months’ credit, and expect to succeed. +How can you pay your notes, coming all together as +they do?”</p> + +<p>“With your leave, I will take care of that matter,” +replied George, with dignity.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” replied Mr. Miller, smiling at the +young man’s warmth. “You propose to be married +in about a month?”</p> + +<p>“We do.”</p> + +<p>“Have you got a house?”</p> + +<p>“I have looked at one.”</p> + +<p>“Have you the means of furnishing it?”</p> + +<p>“Rowe & Co. have offered to sell it to me on six +months.”</p> + +<p>“Then in six months, Mr. Harrison, I will talk +with you about marriage. In the mean time, I must +decline all negotiation.”</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_18"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>George Harrison was a “crack salesman,” and save +and excepting that he rather over-estimated his talents +and business ability, he was a fine fellow.</p> + +<p>He did not believe in looking on the dark side of +things. His heart was full of hope, and he confidently +expected that whatever he put his hand upon +would be instantly turned into money.</p> + +<p>George was a young man of spirit, and he did not +relish the manner in which his prospective father-in-law +had treated him.</p> + +<p>“He used me like a boy,” mumbled George, as he +left the counting room of Mr. Miller; “just as though he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span>knew every thing, and I didn’t know any thing. But +I’ll teach him better than that.”</p> + +<p>Directing his steps to the house of Mr. Miller, he +found Hannah, his lady love, arrayed for a walk.</p> + +<p>“I have bad news, my dear,” said he.</p> + +<p>“Bad news! Why, what, George?”</p> + +<p>“Let us walk to the Common, and I will tell you +all about it.”</p> + +<p>Seated on one of the stone seats by the “Frog +Pond,” George narrated the substance of his interview +with Mr. Miller.</p> + +<p>“But he only postponed the matter for six months +George,” said Hannah, relieved by his statement. +“Perhaps it would be better to put it off.”</p> + +<p>“You know, dearest, we intended to be married +next month.”</p> + +<p>“Still, we can wait.”</p> + +<p>“There is no need of waiting, Hannah.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps there is not; but if my father thinks so, +hadn’t we better humor him?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think so.”</p> + +<p>“Why, what would you do?”</p> + +<p>“Be married;” and George told her how romantic +it would be to run away to New York, and come home +man and wife—how it would surprise their friends.</p> + +<p>Hannah’s “spirit” was fully equal to that of +George; and the moment she began to feel that her +“cruel father” was persecuting them, she was ready +for any thing, even for an elopement.</p> + +<p>The arrangement was made, and George hired the +house he had looked at. Rowe & Co. furnished it, +and took George’s note on six months in payment, +with a mortgage for security.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span></p> + +<p>The new store was opened, and things went on +“swimmingly.” Business was good, and every body +said George was making money “hand over fist.”</p> + +<p>At the appointed time the elopement took place. +The newspapers duly chronicled the event, and, for a +time, George was a lion. The ladies, eager to behold +and converse with a gentleman who had the “spunk” +to tear a persecuted daughter from the grasp of a +cruel father, and elope with her, flocked to his store. +The elopement was a decided hit, and George’s gains +were largely augmented by it.</p> + +<p>The happy couple took up their residence in the +new house. It was beautifully furnished, and Hannah +felt that she was a queen in paradise. To her the +day was not long enough to hold all the happiness +that crowded upon her.</p> + +<p>And her father, too, instead of treating her harshly +after the rash step she had taken, came to see her, +was as kind to her as though nothing had happened, +and never said a single word about the elopement. +Her cup of joy was full.</p> + +<p>George was a prince. He was coining money; he +snapped his fingers at the notes, and wondered what +Mr. Miller said now!</p> + +<p>Flushed with success, he returned home one night +after an unusually good day’s sale, and, after kissing +his wife—they were just married,—and playfully +chucking her under the chin, he vented his exuberant +satisfaction in a rhapsody on the joys of life.</p> + +<p>“Happy as princes!” exclaimed he. “The money +pours in as fast as I care to handle it.”</p> + +<p>“How glad I am!” responded Hannah, artlessly.</p> + +<p>“We have nothing more to wish for, have we, +Hannah?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t know! Why, I thought you were perfectly +happy.”</p> + +<p>“So I am, dear George; but I was thinking, the +other day, how pleasant it would be to have a piano +in the house,” replied she, with some little diffidence.</p> + +<p>“So it would, Hannah; what a dolt I have been +not to think of it! I have felt all along as though +there was some thing wanting.”</p> + +<p>“But I hope, George, you will not buy one if you +cannot afford to do so.”</p> + +<p>“Afford to! Certainly I can; I shall be a rich man +in one year. You shall have one of Chickering’s best +to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>On the following day the piano came. George paid +cash for it from his surplus funds. But no sooner had +the piano come than Hannah began to feel that the +rest of their furniture in the parlor did not correspond +with it. George agreed with the proposition, +and their parlor furniture was sent to Leonard’s forthwith. +A new and expensive set was furnished, and +paid for in cash.</p> + +<p>Thus things went on for several months. It took +all of George’s profits to keep house and buy the new +things which were every day discovered to be wanting.</p> + +<p>The dull season had come on, and George suddenly +found that there was no more business to be done. +He had not even money enough at the end of six +months to pay his second quarter’s rent, to say nothing +of the notes which came due at that time.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span></p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_15"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>The six months had fully expired, even down to the +last day of grace.</p> + +<p>Hannah sat at the piano, playing “Home, sweet +home,” anxiously waiting the return of George. The +hour at which he usually came home had gone by, +and she occasionally cast an impatient glance at the +clock.</p> + +<p>She had observed that for several days he had worn +a troubled air, and had even been so cross as to repulse +her when she offered her accustomed caress; +but the thought that his business matters were in an +embarrassed condition never occurred to her. He had +often boasted of his success, and of course she had +no reason to dread the calamity which her father had +pointed out to her before her marriage.</p> + +<p>A violent pull at the door bell started her from the +piano. A rough-looking person was ushered into her +presence.</p> + +<p>“Very sorry, ma’am,” said he, with an awkward +bow; “but I’ve come to take possession.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, sir?” exclaimed Hannah, +affrighted by the crowd of disagreeable thoughts that +rushed to her brain.</p> + +<p>“Why, simply, ma’am, that the notes haven’t been +paid, and Mr. Harrison’s creditors have attached the +property. This furniture now belongs to Messrs. +Rowe & Co.”</p> + +<p>The deputy sheriff, having placed a keeper over the +goods, politely bowed himself out, leaving Hannah a +prey to a thousand anxious forebodings.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span></p> + +<p>The arrival of George was an intense relief to her.</p> + +<p>“Just as I supposed!” exclaimed he. “My creditors +have had their heads together, and every thing +has gone by the board at once.”</p> + +<p>“Pray, what does it all mean, George?” asked +Hannah.</p> + +<p>“I have failed; my creditors have driven me into +an assignment. I am a beggar.”</p> + +<p>“Why, George, I thought you were doing remarkably +well.”</p> + +<p>“I was; but, with all the business I have done, I +doubt if I could ever have met these notes.”</p> + +<p>“But how much do you owe, George? Can’t you +sell the piano, and pay it?”</p> + +<p>“It would be only a drop in the bucket. To come +right to the fact, I suppose my creditors saw that I +lived up to my income, and so it was no use for them +to be gentle. I must find a situation now as a salesman, +and we must give up this house, and board.”</p> + +<p>“You ought not to have bought that piano; you +know I didn’t want you to if you couldn’t afford it.”</p> + +<p>“And a thousand other things ought not to have +been bought. If I had saved the money, my creditors +would probably have given me an extension on +my paying a part of their demands. But it is too +late now; I have been a fool. Your father was right +after all.”</p> + +<p>“I am afraid he was; but here he comes.”</p> + +<p>“Six months after date,” said Mr. Miller, entering +the room.</p> + +<p>“You were right, sir; I have been a fool,” replied +George, with due humility.</p> + +<p>“Well, the victory is half won when you see the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span>error. But I have not come to reproach you for your +folly, George. How much do you owe?”</p> + +<p>George stated the amount.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” continued Mr. Miller. “I have already +seen your creditors, and with my name on your paper, +they have agreed to give you an extension.”</p> + +<p>“Sir!” exclaimed George, starting back in amazement.</p> + +<p>“But you must let Messrs. Rowe & Co. take these +useless traps; your house is furnished well enough +for a prince.”</p> + +<p>“George is fully sensible where the error lies, +father; we are ready to profit by the lesson.”</p> + +<p>“All right. Young folks <i>think</i> that old folks are +fools, and old folks <i>know</i> that young ones are. Well, +well; we must live and learn.”</p> + +<p>“I am <i>very</i> grateful to you, sir,” began George.</p> + +<p>“There, there! that will do. All I desire is, your +prosperity. When I objected to your marriage, I foresaw +the event which has now happened. You have +done remarkably well in your business; but the best +business in the world wouldn’t pay for a stock of +goods in six months, to say nothing about a thousand +dollars in furniture and knick-knacks.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>George went to work again on a better principle. +When he entered a note on his “Bills Payable,” it +was not until after he had made a close calculation +upon the means of meeting it. He was successful at +last, though, like a majority of young men on the +same street, he won his way to success through failure +and disaster, over the rough road of bitter experience.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span></p> + +<p>A smaller house was procured, and furnished in a +neat and plain style, and Hannah is quite as happy +as she was during the honeymoon in her more ample +establishment, especially as George—who is now +never embarrassed by money matters—is always +cheerful, contented, and withal a loving and devoted +husband; and the prospect now is, that he will be so +“<i>Six Months after Date</i>.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="A_WORLD_OF_TROUBLES"> + A WORLD OF TROUBLES. + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<img class="drop-cap w67" src="images/i_226.jpg" alt="Y" style="max-width: 18em;"> + +<p class='drop-cap d10'><span class='upper-case'>“I am</span> so glad you have +come, Thomas!” exclaimed +Mrs. Butler, a +pale, care-worn young +wife, as her husband +entered the room in +which she had prepared +the evening +meal.</p> + +<p>“Why, what is the +matter <i>now</i>?” returned +the husband, +laying a wicked emphasis upon the word “now,” as +though he meant to imply that there always was +something the matter.</p> + +<p>“Nothing; only I wanted you to bring in a pail +of water, for I am <i>so</i> tired, that I declare I can +hardly keep upon my feet.”</p> + +<p>“Is that all? I did not know but what the baby +had had a fit, or got scalded, or something of that +sort.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing of the kind; I have trouble enough to +get along with, without sickness in the family. I +feel just as though I should die every night when I +get my work done;” and Mrs. Butler sighed, as she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>placed the smoking tea upon the table, and threw +herself into a chair, apparently so exhausted that she +could not have stood another moment.</p> + +<p>“You must have a girl, Mary; you know I don’t +want you to work so hard. I have often told you +so before,” said Mr. Butler.</p> + +<p>“A girl, indeed! Can you afford to keep a girl, +Thomas?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, I can. I am earning twelve dollars a +week now, and I am sure our expenses are not above +eight. A dollar and a half a week added to this +sum would leave me a handsome surplus.”</p> + +<p>“Just like you, Thomas; that is one of your calculations.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, that is one of <i>my</i> calculations,” replied +Mr. Butler, a little tartly.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you wouldn’t reckon any thing for a +girl’s board,” sneered the wife.</p> + +<p>“A mere trifle.”</p> + +<p>“Every thing is a mere trifle with you.”</p> + +<p>Thomas stuffed half a hot biscuit into his mouth +to help him keep his temper.</p> + +<p>“And then she would waste double her wages,” +continued the lady.</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! that is an old woman’s bugbear,” replied +Butler, impatiently.</p> + +<p>“Yes; that’s just the way you always talk.”</p> + +<p>“It is correct talk, though.”</p> + +<p>“Girls don’t waste, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“I presume they do, many of them; but you +abominably exaggerate the amount.”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t; I say they waste double their +wages.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span></p> + +<p>“No such thing.”</p> + +<p>“Ask any one who has kept them.”</p> + +<p>“What articles do they waste to such an enormous +extent?”</p> + +<p>“Every thing—provisions, groceries; and they +burn up twice as much fuel as there is any kind of +need of.”</p> + +<p>“Twice as much?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; <i>twice</i> as much.”</p> + +<p>“Let me see;” and Thomas pulled out a bit +of paper and a pencil, and went to figuring with all +his might. “We use three tons of coal in six months. +Twice as much would be six tons, which would come +to forty-two dollars, or twenty-one dollars waste. That +is eighty cents a week.”</p> + +<p>“Clear waste!” exclaimed Mrs. Butler, with palpable +horror depicted on her countenance.</p> + +<p>“Now, allow that she wastes one-half the provisions +and one-half the groceries, which is absurd, and +she would just double my bills. They were fifty-two +dollars for the last six months, which makes a waste +of two dollars per week. Why, Mary, we have only +made the waste to be two dollars and eighty cents +even with these figures. Double her wages would be +three dollars.”</p> + +<p>“She would waste enough, as you would find out +to your sorrow, if you kept one,” added Mrs. Butler, +not pleased with the state of her side of the +argument.</p> + +<p>“You don’t believe she <i>could</i> waste half the fuel +and stores?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Butler did not believe it, but she did not like +to say so.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span></p> + +<p>“Probably, my dear, under your excellent supervision, +she could not possibly waste more than fifty +cents a week.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that is twenty-six dollars a year.”</p> + +<p>“But I can afford to lose that, rather than that +you should make a slave of yourself.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want a girl; it would be more work to +look after her than it would be to do the work myself.”</p> + +<p>“As you please, my dear.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want your friends to think, you have got +an extravagant wife.”</p> + +<p>“Fudge on my friends!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it is easy enough for <i>you</i> to say so.”</p> + +<p>“And for you, too, if you choose.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to spend all we get.”</p> + +<p>“Nor I, my dear; but, to be very plain with you, I +had much rather do it, than hear you everlastingly +complain how hard you have to work.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t I work hard?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know but you do.”</p> + +<p>“Just think what I have to do.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I have to work hard, too; but I am sure +it does not make one feel any better to be continually +grumbling about it.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s grumbling? Can’t a body speak without +being accused of grumbling?” said Mrs. Butler, +rather pettishly.</p> + +<p>“I only mean to say, that you work twice as hard +with your imagination as you do with your hands; +your thoughts make the work hard.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it is easy for you to say so,” said the wife, +wiping away the tears from her wan cheeks.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span></p> + +<p>“When have I come into the house, Mary, for the +last six months, and you have not told me a heap of +troubles as big as a mountain? I can’t stand it.”</p> + +<p>“I never thought you <i>could</i> be so harsh to <i>me</i>. +You did not use to speak to me in that way,” +sobbed Mary, feeling that she was the most cruelly +used wife in the world.</p> + +<p>“You irritate me with your troubles.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t help my troubles; I do the best I can +to keep your house in order, and take good care of +the baby.”</p> + +<p>“I never found any fault with your management. +I am abundantly pleased with all you do, save and +except your croaking and grumbling.”</p> + +<p>“What can I do?”</p> + +<p>“Go about your work cheerfully, and with a disposition +to make the best of every thing. By a +cheerful and contented disposition, you will make +even the hardest day of toil a day of satisfaction. +You look darkly upon your lot, and that makes +it black.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t help my feelings.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you can, Mary. At any rate, you ought +not to imbitter my existence with your incessant +complainings.”</p> + +<p>“I have tried to make you happy.”</p> + +<p>“If you have, you have signally failed; for it +has come to that, I almost hate to come into the +house, so much do I dread to hear your tale of +woe.”</p> + +<p>“I will try to do better.”</p> + +<p>“Do, Mary; home will become a curse to me +instead of the brightest spot upon earth, as it ought +to be, if you do not.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span></p> + +<p>The baby cried at this point of the conversation, +and Mrs. Butler wiped away her tears, and took the +little cherub from the cradle where he had been +sleeping, all unconscious of the matrimonial squall +which had been blowing around him.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_19"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>When Mrs. Butler was married, she was a bright, +cheerful, and happy maiden. For more than a year +she and her devoted husband had not known the +meaning of matrimonial strife. It was a new state +of existence to her, and while the novelty of the +thing lasted, she was as happy as the day was +long.</p> + +<p>But in the course of events, she was deprived of +the pleasure of going abroad much, and the pretty +home in which she had spent a year of joy, began +to rust on her imagination. Not that her husband +was less devoted; though he might not have been +quite so dreamy and sentimental as he was in the +days of their courtship, yet he was all that a reasonable +wife could expect. He was indulgent, kind, +and sympathized deeply with her in all those matters +wherein a young wife needs tenderness and care.</p> + +<p>Little Bobby was born; but the little stranger +made such a heap of work for the fond mother, that +she declared she should die under the infliction. She +would not listen to her husband’s suggestion to keep +a girl. She had a kind of vanity in her composition, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span>which led her to endure rather than subject +her husband’s purse to such an expenditure. She +feared folks would say she was not as “smart” as +she wished to be considered, or that Thomas’s relations +would deem her extravagant and lazy.</p> + +<p>She continued to do her work, though each day +was a day of misery. Before she got breakfast, +dinner, or tea, she sat and moped over it, thinking +what a terrible hard job it was for her to perform. +She dreaded washing day from about Friday morning; +and over the washtub she was as miserable as soapsuds +and a rubbing-board could possibly make her.</p> + +<p>The reader may imagine that she was lazy; but +I do not think so. She lived in a “world of +trouble;” she looked upon the dark side of every +thing. Of course, there were many hardships she +was called upon to endure—as who is not? She +was obliged to keep occupied most of the time in +the duties of the household and the care of the +baby. Her position was undoubtedly one of trial +and vexation, as those who are experienced in these +matters will readily understand.</p> + +<p>But the principal difficulty was to be found in Mrs. +Butler’s unhappy disposition. She was not cheerful +and contented with her lot. Her morbid imagination +magnified the little trials of every-day life into +monstrous woes, and she suffered intolerably in her +mind, which was communicated to the body. She +was the most miserable of women—the most unreasonably +miserable.</p> + +<p>Of course, her husband, who was of a directly +opposite temperament, was rendered miserable, also. +Mrs. Butler seemed so wedded to her woe, that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span>every effort on his part to alleviate it was promptly +repulsed. He had grown disgusted. His wife was +always complaining. He never came into the house +without being assailed by a relation of her woes. +He cursed his stars—blamed himself for ever becoming +a husband.</p> + +<p>But, then, poor fellow, what could he do? Mary +was as gentle and pleasant a maiden before her +marriage as one often finds. She had never been +placed in a position to try her character. He might +have heard her fret over a new dress that did not +fit, or something of that sort; but he never dreamed +that a tempest could ever blow out of such a little +cloud. It was only when she felt the cold touch of +life’s realities, that she showed out exactly what she +was.</p> + +<p>It was too late now; the mischief had been done. +She was his wife; she was the mother of little +Bobby. He loved her still, though his affections had +been terribly shocked by her thoughtless grumbling.</p> + +<p>Mary had promised to do better; but, alas for the +vanity of human promises, they were words written +in sand. The habit had become deep, rooted. +Thomas was in despair. He had tried by threats and +by persuasions to make her reasonable, but all in +vain. His house was a hell to him. If she had +scolded him, been negligent of her household duties, +a gadder in the street, a gossip—anything but a +grumbler, he felt that he could have endured it, +loved her, and continued to be happy.</p> + +<p>But it was an ever present leaf of woe her countenance +presented to him, and when home had ceased +to be a pleasant place, he gradually absented himself, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span>and the still loving but incorrigible wife smelt +the rum in his breath when he returned from his +evening amusements.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp52" id="i_232" style="max-width: 65.0em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_232.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <span class="smcap">A World of Trouble.</span> Page 234. + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>One night, about two months after the conversation +we have narrated, as the clock was striking the +midnight hour, he was brought home, helplessly +drunk, in the arms of two watchmen, who had +picked him up in the street.</p> + +<p>What a sight for a young and loving wife, to behold +the father of her child drunk! They placed +him in bed, and she spent a sleepless night in weeping +over his senseless, imbruted form. O, the agony of +that bitter time! Her husband a drunkard! she a +drunkard’s wife! Earth has its miseries, but none +like those of the inebriate’s wife.</p> + +<p>Want, shame, the poorhouse, the court, and the +prison rose before her with terrible vividness. A +train of woes—real woes,—so long she could not +see the end of it, marched in solemn procession +before her. There was her child in rags, her husband +a homeless, idle, degraded sot. There was the gaunt +form of Hunger, the glaring eyes of the demons of +crime—there was every thing there, from which the +heart of woman would instinctively shrink.</p> + +<p>Thomas rose next morning and ate his breakfast in +silence—the silence which shame seemed to impose +upon him. He was about to leave his house for his +workshop, when Mary spoke.</p> + +<p>“Thomas,” said she, in the subdued tones of +anguish, while a flood of tears rained down her wan +cheek.</p> + +<p>He looked at her, as though he had already divined +what she meant to say.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span></p> + +<p>“Thomas, you can’t think how unhappy I was last +night, when you were—when you came home.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what’s the matter now?” answered Thomas, +sullenly.</p> + +<p>“O, Thomas, last night!”</p> + +<p>“Well, what of it?”</p> + +<p>Mary was amazed that no appearance of contrition +mitigated his flagrant error.</p> + +<p>“You don’t come home in the evening now.”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“But you will come to-night, Thomas?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I will.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, you <i>will</i>?”</p> + +<p>“What for?”</p> + +<p>“Come for my sake, Thomas.”</p> + +<p>“Your sake! Well, that <i>is</i> a good one,” replied +he, coarsely.</p> + +<p>Mary was shocked.</p> + +<p>“Last night, you were—were——” she could say +no more.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I <i>was</i>.”</p> + +<p>“You were——”</p> + +<p>“Drunk! Out with it.”</p> + +<p>“O, Thomas!”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“What misery is in store for us!”</p> + +<p>“Can’t help it.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, Thomas, promise that you will not——”</p> + +<p>“Get drunk,” laughed Thomas.</p> + +<p>“Do not again.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t promise.”</p> + +<p>“O God! has it come to this!”</p> + +<p>“Fact!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span></p> + +<p>Mary threw herself into a chair, and wept as +though her heart would break. The sight seemed +to move the husband, who was not yet lost in transgression. +A tear stole into his eye and he bent +over her and took her hand.</p> + +<p>“Mary, I have sinned.”</p> + +<p>“You will not again?” said she, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“But, Mary, is there no fault on your part?”</p> + +<p>“My part?”</p> + +<p>“My home is hateful to me. Even the presence +of that sleeping, innocent child removes not the curse +which seems to hang over it.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Thomas, what do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“You know what I mean. Have I not often +reasoned with you?”</p> + +<p>“O God!” exclaimed Mary, burying her face +between her hands, conscious that the misery which +menaced her was of her own seeking.</p> + +<p>“I never will complain of anything again as long +as I live!” she continued.</p> + +<p>“Ah, Mary, I have often heard you say so before.”</p> + +<p>“Trust me, this time, Thomas.”</p> + +<p>“I will, Mary.”</p> + +<p>“Come home to-night; you shall find me all that +you could wish.”</p> + +<p>“Bless you, Mary. I trust for your sake as well +as my own, and for the sake of our own dear boy, +that you may be true to your resolution.”</p> + +<p>“I will, Thomas,” replied she, with a gathering +smile, as her husband kissed her.</p> + +<p>“And I promise never again to taste the fatal cup. +You shall be the guardian of this my solemn pledge; +for in no way can you more effectually secure the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span>keeping of my promise, than by observing your own—in +short, by making home happy.”</p> + +<p>Again the husband kissed her, and then went to +his work.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_16"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>A drunkard’s wife! This was a real woe. What +were all her little vexations compared with it? +Mary’s resolution was a firm one, and in her earnestness +to observe it, she knelt and prayed for strength +from above to enable her to be equal to the duty +before her.</p> + +<p>Last night a terrible fate had menaced her. The lot +of a drunkard’s wife—the most appalling woe that can +overtake a woman—had threatened to be her portion. +The sombre cloud had risen, and her destiny was in +her own hands.</p> + +<p>She knew her husband well enough to be satisfied +that his pledge would be held sacred—that, till she +drove him from his home by her unamiable peculiarity, +he would be true to the words he had spoken.</p> + +<p>Grumbling is only a habit. It may even have a +root in the natural temperament of the individual; +but it is not an incurable disease. Mary felt that +happiness here and hereafter depended upon her fidelity +to the promise she had made—that a single +complaining word would be like a match placed near +the magazine—and another word would involve her +in hopeless ruin.</p> + +<p>But she had sense enough to know, and she strove +to feel that it were useless to avoid the word, while +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span>the disposition existed. It were useless to whitewash +a sepulchre—it is still “full of dead men’s bones.” +She determined to perform a radical cure. She resolved +to <i>be</i> contented, and then the hasty word +would not be spoken.</p> + +<p>She went about her daily duties with a feeling that +a mountain had been removed from her heart. She +was cheerful—happy—happy to feel that it was +in her power to avert the terrible catastrophe which +had menaced her—that she could avoid the yawning +abyss that was before her.</p> + +<p>All her trials and vexations dwindled into trifles +compared with the fate which last night had been so +vividly presented to her imagination, and the comparison +made her happy.</p> + +<p>Punctual to his accustomed hour, Thomas came +home. He had not drank any thing, and he appeared +cheerful and happy. She met him with a smiling +face, and never mentioned a word of the difficulty +that had beset her. She had even been so far as to +draw a pail of water herself, and bring up a hod of +coal; but she said nothing about it.</p> + +<p>They were happy again; but perhaps it was as +much the effect in the contrast as the actual change +in the circumstances. Thomas fondled little Bobby +on his knees, and undressed and put him to bed himself. +Mary was delighted, and from her soul she +prayed that her own weakness might not dissolve the +blissful picture of domestic happiness their home at +that moment presented.</p> + +<p>A year passed by. Thomas was true to his vow, +and Mary to hers. Whenever things went wrong +with her, and the old spirit rose in her heart, her +husband had only to say—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span></p> + +<p>“You absolve me from my oath, Mary?” and she +became gentle and cheerful in an instant.</p> + +<p>Those words were a charm. That solemn promise +broken, and again the poorhouse, the penitentiary, +the bloated father, the ragged child, the long procession +of woes rose in her mind, and she was true +to herself.</p> + +<p>But she really improved her disposition. The +habit was radically cured. The home of Thomas +Butler is no more a “world of trouble;” it is “home, +sweet home”—the abode of the angel of contentment, +the dwelling-place of truth and love, and the +most effectual preventive of the curse of drunkenness.</p> + +<p>Our story is not all a story—it is true to the +letter. We beg the complaining wife to ask herself +if she is not making for her husband a path to the +drunkard’s grave—for herself and her children a bed +of thorns.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="SEND_FOR_THE_DOCTOR"> + “SEND FOR THE DOCTOR.” + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d00'><span class='upper-case'>My</span> excellent old uncle Jesse—peace to his ashes!—used +to tell me that every thing depended on +the “bringing up;” and a little experience in this world +of strange men and things—but a very good world, +for all that—has convinced me that he was considerably +more than half right.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_240" style="max-width: 41.6875em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_240.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Some people have learned to depend upon themselves +in the hour of peril. The energy, firmness, and +decision of their own characters are their sword, +shield, and steed when</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Giant danger threatening stands.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span></p> + +<p class='no-indent'>Their fortress is within themselves. They have been +taught by their instructors or by their circumstances +to rely upon their own strength.</p> + +<p>Others are weak, nervous and vacillating in the +presence of danger, throwing the burden of their salvation +on the shoulders of the first “Good Samaritan” +who approaches them. Their tower of strength +is the doctor, the minister, the lawyer, or some sympathizing +friend. They have never been taught, either +by their instructors or their circumstances, to depend +upon their own resources, moral, mental, and physical, +for guidance and support.</p> + +<p>If the house takes fire, one puts it out; but another +runs to the church and rings the bell for his neighbors. +If Tommy wheezes, papa, who has no confidence in +himself, sends for the doctor; while mamma, who has +been taught from childhood to think and act for herself, +is in favor of giving the little fellow “an onion +and a little goose oil.”</p> + +<p>But extremes are always silly or dangerous, as the +case may be. People laugh at papa, because he is so +ridiculously timid; and mamma delays sending for the +physician till Tommy is almost dead with the croup. +One lets his house burn down while he is summoning +his friends to help him put it out; and another’s is +destroyed because he attempted to put it out alone, +when he actually needed the assistance of his neighbors. +After all, it requires considerable judgment to get +along in the world.</p> + +<p>We have no intention of writing a homily on the +proper conduct of men and women in connection with +the casualties of life. Whether or not it be expedient +to send for the doctor when the baby sneezes, we +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span> +leave to the judgment of the parties immediately interested. +We have a story to tell, which illustrates +both sides of the question; and either disputant in +the important controversy is at liberty to appropriate +the moral to sustain his or her cherished theory.</p> + +<p>Millbrook is a manufacturing village, and the most +important person there, at the time of which we +write, was Mr. Milton Barrington, who, to use the +metaphorical language of the villagers, “run” the +principal mill. Though quite a young man, he had +amassed a handsome fortune, and by his enterprise, +public spirit, and general character as a person of +integrity and fairness, had attained the most influential +position in the village. People looked to him for +advice and assistance in their extremity, and no one +ever thought of making a motion in town meeting to +build a new school house, lay out a road, or of making +any important movement, until he had been consulted. +The people were mainly on his side in politics, +religion, and philosophy. Whatever he did, he +was pretty sure to have plenty of imitators.</p> + +<p>Mr. Barrington had spent the flower of his manhood +in the pursuit of wealth; and the idea of getting +married did not occur to him till he had reached +his thirtieth year. Probably he would not have +thought of such a thing then, if a pretty and otherwise +eligible young lady had not at that time crossed +his path, reminding him of his duty in the premises.</p> + +<p>Three years after, we find him in the full enjoyment +of all the blessings of the connubial state, and +the father of a pretty little boy just eighteen months +old. Mr. Barrington was the happiest of fathers, and +to use grandma’s enthusiastic expression, “he set his +life by that boy.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span></p> + +<p>It was a cold night in December. Mr. Barrington +was reading Mrs. Stowe’s Sunny Memories to his +wife, while little Charley lay asleep in his crib beside +them.</p> + +<p>The clock struck ten, and as the father laid aside +the book, Charley coughed rather hoarsely, and waking +up, began to scream most lustily. Mrs. Barrington +took him up and tried to quiet him; but +he obstinately refused to be quieted.</p> + +<p>Mr. Barrington was alarmed. Charley was not +accustomed to have such freaks.</p> + +<p>“What do you think ails him?” asked he of his +wife.</p> + +<p>“He has got a little cold, probably.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think I had better send for the doctor?” +continued Mr. Barrington, nervously.</p> + +<p>“Not the least need of it.”</p> + +<p>“But the croup, my dear?”</p> + +<p>“That cough was nothing like the croup.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Barrington was comforted by this assurance, and +in a little while, Charley got tired of crying, and +went to sleep again.</p> + +<p>The child was carried up stairs, and they retired. +But Mr. Barrington was not wholly satisfied. The +croup was so sudden and so fatal that the cough he +had heard seemed to haunt his imagination. He could +not go to sleep for thinking of it. He trembled at the +thought of losing the darling little one. He had +passed almost into a confirmed old bachelor before his +marriage, and the diseases of children had never +received much consideration from him. He had heard +people tell how dreadful the croup was, and only a +week before the only child of one of his overseers +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span>had died with it, after an illness of scarcely twelve +hours.</p> + +<p>The clock on the village church struck one, and he +was still awake. His wife slept soundly. She was +better acquainted with the nature of the dreadful disease, +and had felt no alarm when the child coughed.</p> + +<p>While he was thus thinking of what might possibly +happen, Charley coughed again, and jumping up in +the bed, began to scream as he had in the evening.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Barrington took him in her arms.</p> + +<p>“Did you hear him cough?” asked the trembling +father.</p> + +<p>“I did not. His screams awoke me.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t he breathe hard? Are you sure he has not +got the croup?”</p> + +<p>“I do not think he has. He seems to breathe +freely,” replied Mrs. Barrington. “He is a little +hoarse, but I do not think it is any thing serious.”</p> + +<p>“I am afraid it is. Don’t you think I had better +send for the doctor?”</p> + +<p>“There is no occasion to do so.”</p> + +<p>“I am really alarmed about him.”</p> + +<p>“Do as you wish; though I think it is only a little +cold.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Barrington was satisfied it was the croup, and +the consent of his wife, thus doubtfully given, was all +he required. The “man of all work” was called up +and despatched for Dr. Broadbeam, with a request +that the physician would come with all possible haste.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span></p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_20"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Mrs. Barrington used all her maternal arts to quiet +the little patient. He did not appear to suffer any +pain, and his respiration was apparently as free as +ever. In a short time, her efforts were successful, and +Charley sunk away into a peaceful slumber.</p> + +<p>It was half an hour before Dr. Broadbeam arrived. +It was possible he had used all convenient despatch +in waiting upon his influential patron; but being a +man of two hundred pounds, his swiftest movements +were necessarily slow.</p> + +<p>Dr. Broadbeam had the reputation of being a very +skilful physician; but unfortunately he had such a +“grouty” way of dealing with his patients and patrons, +that his popularity in Millbrook was on the decline. +People did not like to be “snapped up” when +they were sick; and the only circumstance that enabled +Dr. Broadbeam to retain even a moiety of the +practice of the village, was the fact that Mr. Barrington +still employed him.</p> + +<p>At the suggestion of a small portion of the population, +who had the hardihood to break away from +Mr. Barrington’s lead, a young physician of good +parts, and with an easy and pleasing address, had +been induced to locate himself in the village. Dr. +Broadbeam raved like a madman at the advent of the +interloper, stigmatized him as a quack, and obstinately +refused even to be civil to him. But when a year in +the young doctor’s professional experience had passed +away without sensibly augmenting his practice, he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span>condescended to laugh at him, and call him a fool. +The crusty old leech felt that he could have every +thing his own way; that his skill and experience +were amply sufficient to offset his morose address and +sour temper.</p> + +<p>To get out of a warm bed in the middle of a cold +December night, is never agreeable to any body, unless +perchance the house be on fire; and young gentlemen +who aspire to the honors of the medical craft +ought to think of this before they choose the profession.</p> + +<p>To Dr. Broadbeam night duty was especially unpleasant. +He was rather indolent and luxurious in +his habits, and always made it a rule to believe that +poor folks could wait till morning before they had the +doctor. But when Mr. Barrington summoned him, +why, it was quite another affair.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with the child?” growled Dr. +Broadbeam, as he entered the apartment.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, doctor, but I am very much afraid +of the croup,” replied Mr. Barrington, handing the +physician a chair.</p> + +<p>“Humph!”</p> + +<p>“The croup prevails to some extent in the village, +you are aware,” added the nervous father.</p> + +<p>“Always does at this season of the year,” replied +the doctor, bending over the child to listen to his respiration.</p> + +<p>“Does he breathe naturally, doctor?” asked Mrs. +Barrington, to whom her husband’s alarm had to some +extent communicated itself.</p> + +<p>“Naturally?” sneered the physician. “Nothing +under the sun ails the child.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span></p> + +<p>“What made him cry so, doctor?” inquired Mrs. +Barrington.</p> + +<p>“Cry so, madam? cry so! You gave him too much +supper, madam; and I am tumbled out of my bed to see +a child that has the stomach ache!” growled the +doctor, enraged when he thought of the comfortable +bed which he had been so unceremoniously compelled +to leave.</p> + +<p>“But his cough, doctor?” said Mr. Barrington, +controlling his indignation at the rudeness of the +physician.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Barrington, you are a fool!” exclaimed Dr. +Broadbeam, as he violently jammed his hat upon his +head. “Do you think I am to leave my bed on a +cold night like this, whenever your baby sneezes? +Humph!”</p> + +<p>“You are a physician, are you not?” asked Mr. +Barrington.</p> + +<p>He was angry; but keeping down his indignation, +he put the question with tolerable calmness.</p> + +<p>“A physician! Of course I am; but is that any +reason why I should be turned out in the dead of +the night for nothing at all?” replied the enraged +leech.</p> + +<p>“You chose your own profession.”</p> + +<p>“What if I did?”</p> + +<p>“What is your charge for a night visit?”</p> + +<p>“Five dollars, sir! Five dollars!” answered the +doctor, maliciously.</p> + +<p>“And you believe that I am able to pay it?”</p> + +<p>“I do, or I would not have come.”</p> + +<p>“That is enough, sir; if I am content to pay five +dollars for the assurance of a physician that nothing +ails my child, I take it that I am at liberty to do so.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span></p> + +<p>“Humph!”</p> + +<p>“When I send for a physician, I consider it a business +transaction. He gives me his advice for the +money I pay him. If his conduct entitles him to be +cherished as a friend—as an angel sent with healing +balm for the soul as well as the body,”—and Mr. +Barrington looked sternly at the doctor,—“I cheerfully +accord him his due.”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir!”</p> + +<p>“If I send for my millwright, I do not leave it +optional with him to determine whether I need him or +not. If he does not choose to come, there are other +millwrights in the state.”</p> + +<p>“Do you compare a physician to a millwright?” +sneered the doctor.</p> + +<p>“If I send for my millwright to come and tell me +whether my water wheel needs repairs, he comes; he +examines it; perhaps he decides that nothing is the +matter with it, and that I ought to have known that +it was perfectly sound. If he should reproach me for +sending for him, I should call him no business man. +I pay him for his time, though he lift not an axe.”</p> + +<p>“Humph!”</p> + +<p>“It is a great satisfaction to me to know that +nothing ails my child. I am able and willing to pay +for that assurance.”</p> + +<p>“Pay! Do you take me for a hireling?” exclaimed +the doctor, with a fresh outbreak of anger, as he +abruptly turned on his heel and left the chamber.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span></p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_17"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>On the 1st of January, Dr. Broadbeam’s bill for +professional services, amounting to over two hundred +dollars, was presented to Mr. Barrington, and was +promptly paid. He was not one of that numerous +and highly respectable class of people who make it a +point to grumble at doctor’s bills.</p> + +<p>The manufacturer was a peaceful, prudent man, not +disposed to stir up strife in the neighborhood; so he +kept silent in regard to his unpleasant interview with +the physician.</p> + +<p>About a month after, Mr. Barrington was roused +from his slumbers at midnight by the sound of an +ominous cough from Charley. But this time it did +not awake the little fellow. The fond father was still +fearful of the croup; yet the child slept so soundly +that his fears subsided, and he was just dropping +asleep again when the cough was repeated.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the child awoke, and his respiration +began to grow difficult.</p> + +<p>“What do you think?” asked he of his wife.</p> + +<p>“He is a little croupy; but I do not think there +is any occasion to be alarmed. I will give him the +‘Hive Sirup,’ which I doubt not will immediately relieve +him.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Barrington got up and brought the sirup. A +dose was given, and the parents waited with anxiety +the effect.</p> + +<p>An hour elapsed, and the child was no better.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think I had better send for the doctor?” +said Mr. Barrington.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span></p> + +<p>“No, I can get along very well.”</p> + +<p>“But the croup; hasn’t he got it?”</p> + +<p>“He has a croupy cough, which may lead to croup, +if it is not attended to,” replied Mrs. Barrington, +giving the little sufferer another spoonful of the +sirup.</p> + +<p>Two hours more passed away, and instead of getting +better, the child grew worse every minute. But +Mrs. Barrington did not like to send for the doctor. +In the family of her father, a physician had rarely +ever been called, and she had come to regard the +faculty with something like contempt.</p> + +<p>“He grows worse,” said Mr. Barrington, beginning +to lose confidence in the efficacy of his wife’s treatment.</p> + +<p>“The medicine has not had time to produce its +effect yet,” replied Mrs. Barrington. “He will begin +to grow better soon.”</p> + +<p>“I think we had better send for the doctor,” added +the anxious father. “It may be too late in the +morning.”</p> + +<p>“I do not want any more fuss with the doctor. +The last time he came, he made me so nervous that +it took me a week to get over it.”</p> + +<p>“We will not have Dr. Broadbeam, then.”</p> + +<p>“He will be better soon.”</p> + +<p>“Do not delay it too long.”</p> + +<p>Another hour elapsed, and still the little sufferer +was no better. His breathing was extremely difficult, +and the cough was more frequent and hard. The +mother’s remedy had apparently produced no effect +whatever, and she began to be alarmed herself.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you had better send for the doctor,” +said she.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span></p> + +<p>“Dr. Broadbeam?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“I determined, when I paid his last bill, never to +employ him again.”</p> + +<p>“Dr. Slender has been very successful in croup,” +added Mrs. Barrington, “and I should feel just as +much confidence in him as in Dr. Broadbeam.”</p> + +<p>“I will send for him.”</p> + +<p>In less than fifteen minutes after the messenger left +the house, the young physician arrived. Of course +he was not a little astonished to be roused from his +bed by a summons from the “leading man of the +village;” but he had chosen his profession, and considered +it a duty to go whenever and wherever he was +called.</p> + +<p>Dr. Slender examined the child.</p> + +<p>“You should have procured a physician before,” +said he, shaking his head ominously.</p> + +<p>Mr. Barrington’s heart rose to his throat. His frame +trembled, and he was so nervous that he was forced +to cling to the bedpost for support.</p> + +<p>“Is he dangerous, doctor?” asked he.</p> + +<p>“Three hours ago, it would not have been a bad +case. I doubt if he can be saved now. But there is +no time to be lost. Bring me some cold water and +some linen cloths.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Slender gave the child a portion of medicine, +and applied himself with so much energy to the +means of effecting a cure, that the parents were inspired +with hope, and felt entire confidence in his +skill.</p> + +<p>Morning dawned upon the little patient, and he +was apparently in the last stages of the fell disease. +Dr. Slender still remained by him, and was now adopting +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span>the last resort known to the physician. The agony +of the parents can be conceived by those who have +watched over the death bed of a cherished little one, +but it cannot be described.</p> + +<p>Providence smiled upon the young physician, and +he had the inexpressible satisfaction, before noon, of +declaring that the child would recover. A pæan of +praise rose from the grateful hearts of the devoted +parents. In a few days little Charley was as well as +ever, and the reputation of Dr. Slender was made.</p> + +<p>The star of Dr. Broadbeam had set. The young +physician in a few months secured the entire practice +of the place. The potent influence of Mr. Barrington +was all he needed to insure his success. He was polite +and affable in his professional intercourse with his +patients, and the contrast between him and his crusty +rival was so striking, that every body wondered how +they had been able to endure the latter.</p> + +<p>Dr. Broadbeam was compelled to “leave town.” +Whether or not he has learned that a decent deportment +towards his patients is expedient, we are unable +to say. But we infer that he has, from the fact that, +unable to establish himself again in practice, he +turned his attention to the manufacture and sale of +patent medicine; and “Broadbeam’s Celebrated Chinese +Antibilious Pill” are as popular as advertising and +false certificates can make them.</p> + +<p>Mr. Barrington has decided that it is best to send +for the doctor when the baby sneezes. Dr. Slender is +always willing to come when he is sent for, and +laughingly maintains that he is just as well satisfied +to pocket his fee for saying nothing ails the baby, as +for giving it an emetic.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="FOUR_KINDS_OF_CAKE"> + “FOUR KINDS OF CAKE.” + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<img class="drop-cap w60" src="images/i_253.jpg" alt="Y" style="max-width: 25.6875em;"> + +<p class='drop-cap d10'><span class='upper-case'>“It</span> is folly, wife!” exclaimed +Mr. Jotham +Somes, a matter-of-fact, +plain-spoken sort +of man, to his better +half. “There you +have got no less than +four kinds of cake, +three kinds of pies, +two kinds of preserves, +to say nothing +of knicknacks and +gimcracks.”</p> + +<p>The fact was, that +Mrs. Somes was having +the minister and +his wife and two +grown-up daughters to +take tea with her. She had been engaged for three +days in the preparations, and such a display of nice +things was calculated to astonish the minister and +his family—to give them a two-fold surprise—first, +at the variety and extent of her culinary resources, +and, secondly, at her folly in attempting to make +a display far beyond her means.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span></p> + +<p>The Someses were in comfortable circumstances. Mr. +Somes was a farmer, and probably his income might +have amounted to four hundred dollars per annum.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Somes was a prudent, careful housewife, who +wasted no more of her culinary skill upon her own +family than was absolutely necessary; but she delighted +in making a grand appearance when she had +company. Mr. Somes and the boys were sometimes +so ill-natured as to growl at her careful catering +when the house contained no company, and it cut +them to the bone to see such extraordinary preparations +for the neighbors. It was “kiss the cook” +when they were alone; but the board groaned with +plenty when there were guests present.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jotham Somes had just come from the sitting +room where the table, with all its tempting array of +viands was spread. He did not like it a bit, and +after passing the time of day with the parson and +his family, he proceeded to the kitchen, where his +wife was just taking the hot biscuits out of the oven.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean by folly, I should like to +know?” replied Mrs. Jotham Somes, somewhat +tartly.</p> + +<p>She was a second wife, and having been redeemed +from one of the advance stages of maidenhood, her +temper had grown a little sour before she became a +wife.</p> + +<p>“The folly of setting a table as you have yours,” +replied the husband. “I should think you were +going to have the president and the royal family to +take tea with you.”</p> + +<p>“I am going to have the Rev. Mr. Meeklie and +his family.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span></p> + +<p>“But I can’t afford such extravagance as this. +You will ruin me.”</p> + +<p>“I will take care of my business, if you will of +yours,” returned the lady, slamming the oven door.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps this is not my business.”</p> + +<p>“No, I’m sure it is not.”</p> + +<p>“Who pays for all them gewgaws and gimcracks?”</p> + +<p>“You do, of course.”</p> + +<p>“But it is none of my business?”</p> + +<p>“No; I never thought before you were so confounded +mean,” said the lady, her face reddening +with anger.</p> + +<p>“Mean! I’m not mean. But when you get victuals +for your own family, you think almost any thing +is good enough for them. We never see any pies, +and cakes, and knicknacks.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think I’m going to make pies and cakes +for the men folks to eat every day?” retorted the +indignant housekeeper.</p> + +<p>“Then don’t do it for company. What is good +enough for me is as good as I can afford to give my +visitors.”</p> + +<p>“I really believe if you had your way, you +would have me as mean with company as the +Smiths.”</p> + +<p>“The Smiths are as good folks and as liberal as +any in town; and I’ll warrant Parson Meeklie thinks +a heap more of them than he does of you, with all +your four kinds of cake.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a fool, Mr. Somes!”</p> + +<p>“I am fool enough to know that folks are not +judged by the quantity of sweet cakes they put upon +the table when they have company. I repeat it—there +is no better folks in town than the Smiths.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span></p> + +<p>“I s’pose not; but they had nothing but cold +biscuit and molasses gingerbread when we took tea +there.”</p> + +<p>“That’s as good as they can afford; but it is no +better than they have every day, and I admire their +independence.”</p> + +<p>“They’re contemptible, mean folks, there!”</p> + +<p>“Why? Because they don’t attempt to make folks +believe they live better than they do? For my part, +I don’t think it is any better than hypocrisy to make +such a parade as you do, especially when it is hard +work for me and the boys to get a decent meal of +victuals.”</p> + +<p>“Did any body ever hear the like?” groaned the +lady, who had by this time arrived at that pitch +of excitement when tears are more effective than +words.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps they never did; but if ever I see any +thing of this sort again, they will be pretty likely to +hear of it,” replied Mr. Somes, throwing off his blue +frock, and commencing his preparations for taking tea +with the minister.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_21"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>The plate of hot biscuit was placed in the midst +of the profusion of fancy eatables with which the +table was crowded. The minister and his family were +duly seated, and the ceremony was proceeding decently +and in order.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Somes had not wholly recovered from the +excitement of the interview in the kitchen, and her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span>hand trembled slightly as she handed Mrs. Meeklie +her tea. Mr. Somes had donned his best blue coat, +with brass buttons, which had done duty as a Sunday +garment for the past fifteen years.</p> + +<p>He seemed to be somewhat uneasy; and though he +and the minister had always been on the best of terms, +his answers were too short and crusty for a courteous +host.</p> + +<p>“Won’t you pass the biscuit to Mrs. Meeklie, +husband?” said Mrs. Somes, with her sweetest smile, +albeit not very sweet at that.</p> + +<p>Mr. Somes did pass the biscuit to Mrs. Meeklie, +and she took one; but when he passed them to Mr. +Meeklie, he smilingly declined.</p> + +<p>“No, I thank you, Mr. Somes; I never eat hot +bread. It does not agree with me,” said he.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Somes passed the cold bread, thinking all the +time how very uncivil it was in the parson to refuse +the hot biscuit she had taken so much pains to prepare.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Meeklie was very respectful to his stomach; +for he found, when insulted and imposed upon, that +it was tyrannical and disagreeable; and he paid more +deference to his digestive organs than he did to the +feelings of his vain parishioners.</p> + +<p>“My biscuit are not very nice; I did not have as +good luck as I generally do,” suggested Mrs. Somes, +as Mrs. Meeklie took a second cake.</p> + +<p>“Better,” interposed Mr. Somes.</p> + +<p>The lady looked at him with very evident marks of +displeasure.</p> + +<p>“They are very nice,” said the parson’s wife.</p> + +<p>“Take a little more of this quince preserve, Miss +Meeklie. I dare say it is not so nice as your +mother makes; but the truth is——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span></p> + +<p>“It has stood too long,” interrupted Mr. Somes. +“The jar has not been opened since you were here +last fall.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Somes looked daggers; but the parson very +considerately asked Mr. Somes whether he had done +planting just at that moment, and her anger evaporated +without any unpleasant effects.</p> + +<p>“Husband, won’t you pass that cake to Mr. Meeklie?”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mrs. Somes; I never eat cake. +Your bread is very good; I will thank you for some +more.”</p> + +<p>“Really, Mr. Meeklie, you will take some of this +cake? It is not very rich; there is very little butter +in it.”</p> + +<p>“Not any, I thank you; I never eat cake, unless +it be something very simple, such as gingerbread or +molasses cake.”</p> + +<p>What a calamity! Four kinds of cake and the +parson wouldn’t touch one of them!</p> + +<p>“But you will take some of these jumbles; I made +them on purpose for you.”</p> + +<p>“That’s a fact, Mr. Meeklie,” added Mr. Somes, +maliciously.</p> + +<p>He would further have added that his wife never +made pies and cakes for her own family; but he was +afraid of frightening the parson.</p> + +<p>“You must excuse me. I doubt not they are +very nice; but I have to be careful.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meeklie and her two grown-up daughters were +more courteous, and each nibbled a small bit of the +rich pound cake; but they seemed to do it against +their consciences, and against their better judgment.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span></p> + +<p>The truth was, they felt embarrassed by the extraordinary +display Mrs. Somes had made. They did +not feel at home. The whole affair was too set and +artificial to be enjoyed, and at an early hour the +whole party withdrew, mentally determining to make +it a long time before they took tea with Mrs. Somes +again.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_18"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>“Wife, where is the piece of meat I sent home for +dinner?” asked Farmer Somes, as he and the boys +came in for their noonday meal, on the day following +the tea party.</p> + +<p>The farmer glanced inquiringly at the table which +was spread before him. Involuntarily his nasal organ +contracted longitudinally; it would not be polite to +say he “turned up his nose,” though such was the +fact beyond the possibility of denial.</p> + +<p>Farmer Somes was not, in any sense, an epicure. +He liked a plain, substantial diet, that “which was +good, and enough of it,” as he forcibly expressed his +ideas of table economy.</p> + +<p>Lest the reader should suppose he was one of those +grouty, ill-natured “feeders,” who would grumble at +the ambrosia and nectar of the gods, we deem it +necessary to particularize the articles on the board of +the lady who placed four kinds of cake before company.</p> + +<p>Certainly there was variety enough to satisfy the +most fickle taste. On a broken plate—the best dishes +were religiously reserved to the use of company—was +the half of one sausage and two thirds of another, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span>making one sausage and one sixth, all told. They +were partially embedded in a petrified sea of suspicious-looking +fat, and altogether, the aspect of the +dish was singularly forbidding.</p> + +<p>On a white plate, with a long black fracture extending +quite across it, lay, in an aggregated mass, three +dozen baked beans, and an infinitesimal fragment of a +pork rind. This was an antiquity. Farmer Somes and +the boys had a very distinct remembrance of having +seen this dish every day during the previous fortnight, +proving that Mrs. Somes was not only one of the +most economical, but one of the most persevering +dames in the world. The farmer and the boys had +virtually said they would not eat those same beans, +and Mrs. Somes virtually said they should.</p> + +<p>On a worn-out blue plate, superannuated, and +“nicked” in a thousand places, were four pork bones, +looking as though they had been preyed upon by that +army of mice which Whittington’s cat destroyed. +These bones had seen service during the last twelve +days; the joint, of which they were the disintegrated +members, had graced the table just a fortnight before.</p> + +<p>There were sundry other articles, antique, old fashioned +“titbits,” which might have been set before +Noah and his friends in the ark. Six long red potatoes, +unpeeled, even unsprouted, completed the array +of edibles, ornamental and substantial.</p> + +<p>The farmer’s nose contracted as before related.</p> + +<p>“Where is the meat I sent home?”</p> + +<p>“Hanging in the well.”</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t we better eat it?”</p> + +<p>“I want it for company next Sunday.”</p> + +<p>“The —— ahem! Company again?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span></p> + +<p>“I expect my brother will dine with us then, and +I want something fit to set before him.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Somes looked sulky.</p> + +<p>“And you mean to starve me and the boys in the +mean time?”</p> + +<p>“I should like to know if there is not enough for +you?” said the dame, pointing at the table.</p> + +<p>Farmer Somes turned up his nose.</p> + +<p>“Did I ever refuse to buy victuals when you wanted +it?” said he, rather sternly.</p> + +<p>“Not that I know of; but I didn’t suppose you +wanted to buy fresh meat <i>every</i> day,” returned the +wife, sourly. “I am sure I try to be as economical +as I can.”</p> + +<p>“Four kinds of cake, which nobody would touch, I +suppose is prudent, ain’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, good morning, Mr. Somes; I am glad to find +you at home,” said Mr. Meeklie, walking into the +room unannounced.</p> + +<p>Good gracious! the minister, and with such a table +as that spread before the family! What a commentary +on four kinds of cake for company!</p> + +<p>Mrs. Somes was all confusion. Though the parson +intended to look right at the farmer, she could see +that more than once his eyes wandered over the +table.</p> + +<p>“Glad to see you, parson; sit down and take some +dinner with us,” said Mr. Somes, shaking the minister’s +offered hand.</p> + +<p>“Thank you; I don’t care if I do,” replied Mr. +Meeklie. “I have a long walk to take before I return +home.”</p> + +<p>Farmer Somes was pointing him to a chair, when +the lady interposed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span></p> + +<p>“We have got a picked-up dinner to-day. Husband +sent home a joint of veal; but it didn’t get here till +half after eleven; so I had no time to cook it.”</p> + +<p>“Got here by eight o’clock,” said Farmer Somes; +“no fibs to the parson.”</p> + +<p>“But if you will wait only a few moments, I will +fry some of the veal.”</p> + +<p>“Sit down, parson; it is every day fare; but then, +what is good enough for me is good enough for my +friends.”</p> + +<p>“Right, Mr. Somes,” replied the minister, drawing +up his chair. “My business relates to the new bell +for the meeting house. I am carrying round the subscription +paper.”</p> + +<p>“I am with you, parson.”</p> + +<p>Farmer Somes was in most malicious good humor, +and, with a broad laugh on his honest phiz, he opened +the paper the minister gave him.</p> + +<p>“Smith, twenty dollars.”</p> + +<p>“Twenty dollars!” exclaimed Mrs. Somes; “I +should not think he could afford it.”</p> + +<p>“He gives his friends nothing but gingerbread,” +said the farmer. “Put me down for thirty; we have +four kinds of cake.”</p> + +<p>The parson consumed one “long red,” and one of +the vulgar fractions of a cold sausage. He preferred +brown bread to white, and wouldn’t touch any of the +pies which the prudent housekeeper set before him.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Somes was awfully mortified. Her reputation +was sacrificed, and Farmer Somes never again had +occasion to find fault with her for making a vain show +of three kinds of pies, two kinds of preserves, and +four kinds of cake.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="EXTREMES_MEET"> + EXTREMES MEET; + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>OR</span>, + <br> + <span class='allsmcap ls2'>FACT AND FICTION.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d00'>“What are you reading, sis?”</p> + +<p>“Hard Times.”</p> + +<p>“A novel!”</p> + +<p>“Yes; why not? Dickens’s last new novel, and a +capital thing it is, too.”</p> + +<p>The two ladies, between whom this conversation +passed, were sisters, and nieces of one of the better +class of New England farmers, with whom they resided. +’Squire Fairbank, without being a very brilliant man, +had acquired considerable distinction in the village +where he lived, probably because, besides being “worth +money,” he was a straightforward, conservative, reliable +man, and had frequently served the town in an +acceptable manner, both in the legislature, and as +moderator in town meeting. He was the most notable +man in the village, and won the title of ’Squire, which +was universally accorded to him, simply by being a +very respectable person and a man of influence.</p> + +<p>Susan and Mary Fairbank were orphans, inheriting +from their father the very pretty little sum of five +thousand dollars each. Both had attained their majority, +and consequently were in full possession of their +portions, untrammelled even by the authority of as indulgent +a guardian as ’Squire Fairbank had proved to be.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span></p> + +<p>They had been well educated at a celebrated female +seminary in the vicinity of Boston, and as a matter of +course, had brought home to the quiet village of Poppleton +many strange notions and remarkable peculiarities. +But they were sensible girls in the main, +and though their habits and education elevated them +above the reigning <i>ton</i> of the place, it was generally +conceded that they knew “what was what,” and were +not “a mite more stuck up” than would naturally +have been expected.</p> + +<p>Mary and Susan were essentially different in temperament +and disposition. The former was exceedingly +open and free-hearted, while the latter was rather +disposed to truckle to the formality of the world, or +to the circumstances in which she happened to be +placed. Mary never asked what the world would say +or think, and while her notions of duty were very +clearly defined, she chose to be independent and +straightforward. People said she “took after” her +father.</p> + +<p>Susan, on the contrary, was nicely sensitive to the +good opinion of others. She had not the energy to do +any thing in opposition to popular sentiment. Indeed, +she was very much like some of the distinguished +public servants at Washington, who do every thing +with an eye to a reëlection or to government patronage.</p> + +<p>A short time before our story opens, a young minister +had been settled in Poppleton, and being a single +man, ’Squire Fairbank had consented, as a special +favor, to receive him into his house. The Rev. Mr. +Carlisle was universally allowed to be a very promising +young man. He was talented, had a graceful +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span>elocution, and, what pleased the young ladies better +still, was decidedly a handsome person. Those who +were not much influenced by talent, elocution, and +personal beauty, thought he was rather bigoted for +one so young, and hoped that time would wear off +the rough corners of his repulsive theology.</p> + +<p>Susan Fairbank was deeply interested in the young +clergyman, and as a natural consequence to one of +her vacillating temperament, became deeply interested +in spiritual things. We do not believe she had any +intention of playing the hypocrite; but her devotion +to the young minister involuntarily led her to assume +an interest, which, if Mr. Carlisle had been old, ugly, +or married, she would not have felt.</p> + +<p>“A novel, sis! only think of it!” exclaimed Susan, +holding up both hands with pious horror.</p> + +<p>“Pray, Susan, how long is it since you have possessed +this holy repugnance to novels? It was only +last winter that I saw you reading The Children of +the Abbey,” returned Mary, laughing heartily.</p> + +<p>“I have not read one since, and I never mean to +again.”</p> + +<p>“Fudge!”</p> + +<p>“What do you think Mr. Carlisle would say if he +should see you reading a novel?”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t care what he said.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Mary!”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t; if he does not like it, he may whistle +for all me.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk so, Mary.”</p> + +<p>“Why will you make a fool of yourself, Susan? +Mr. Carlisle cares no more for you than he does for +the fifth wheel of a coach; I would not stand in such +fear of him for the world.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span></p> + +<p>“Fear of him! I do not fear him; I only respect +him as a very good man.”</p> + +<p>“You have set your cap for him; but let me tell +you to be more independent, or you never will catch +him,” said Mary, laughing.</p> + +<p>“How absurd you talk!”</p> + +<p>“Do I?”</p> + +<p>Susan fell to biting her finger nail—a very vulgar +habit, by the way—and to think of something which +her sister had no difficulty in discerning.</p> + +<p>“Do you really love him, Susan?” asked Mary.</p> + +<p>“Love him! No; I never thought of such a +thing.”</p> + +<p>Perhaps she never did.</p> + +<p>“What makes you go to all the prayer meetings, +and mope round the house like a sick owl, then?”</p> + +<p>“I think I am under conviction,” replied Susan, +demurely.</p> + +<p>“Conviction of what?”</p> + +<p>“Conviction of sin.”</p> + +<p>“Conviction that Mr. Carlisle is a very handsome +fellow, more like.”</p> + +<p>“How absurd you are!”</p> + +<p>“And I have heard a report round town, that you +were going to join the church.”</p> + +<p>“I have spoken to Mr. Carlisle about it.”</p> + +<p>Mary looked serious for a moment.</p> + +<p>“If you really feel so, I commend your conduct; +but I advise you not to be too hasty. Examine your +heart attentively, and do not bring scandal upon the +church by having side motives. But here comes Mr. +Carlisle,” said Mary, as she again turned her attention +to the fascinating pages of Hard Times.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp52" id="i_264" style="max-width: 65.0625em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_264.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <span class="smcap">Extremes Meet.</span> Page 267. + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span></p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_22"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>The young minister entered the room. Susan had +taken up Saints’ Rest, which lay by her, and commenced +reading where she had left off, when she saw +Mr. Carlisle coming up the yard. As he came into +the room she laid down the book, and looked, for all +the world, as though she had not a friend in the world. +The assuming of this appearance was involuntary on her +part; it was in accordance with her nature.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carlisle seated himself by her side, and commenced +catechising her in regard to the impression +the contents of the book produced upon her mind—whether +it afforded her consolation in her troubled +mind—and finally whether she really thought she had +a hope. To all these queries Susan replied in a satisfactory +manner, assuring the handsome young shepherd +that she had been much edified by her reading.</p> + +<p>There was a smile of mischief playing upon the +pretty and expressive face of Mary, as she peered +over the top of Hard Times, to observe the ghostly +interview. She could see that Mr. Carlisle engaged +in the conversation with her sister merely as a matter +of professional interest—sincerely, it is true, but with +no unusual interest in the penitent. He regarded her +as a wandering sheep, whom it was his duty to bring +into the fold.</p> + +<p>But she compassionated her sister, who had deluded +herself into the belief that she could win the heart of +the shepherd by becoming one of his sheep; and she +was provoking enough to tell her that instead of +making a sheep, she had made a calf of herself.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span></p> + +<p>When the minister had finished his professional +counsel, he turned to Mary. As he did so, an involuntary +smile came upon his lips. It was not the +smile of a ghostly father, but of a young man who +has flesh in his heart and blood in his veins.</p> + +<p>Mary laid down her book as she noticed his intention +to address her.</p> + +<p>“What are you reading, Miss Fairbank?” asked +he.</p> + +<p>“Hard Times,” promptly replied Mary.</p> + +<p>“A novel?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>The jaw of the young minister dropped down two +inches.</p> + +<p>“Do you like it?”</p> + +<p>“O, very much, indeed!” replied Mary, with wicked +enthusiasm; “I admire Dickens’s of all the novels I +ever read.”</p> + +<p>“Do you make a practice of reading novels?”</p> + +<p>“I seldom read anything else. I did read Reveries +of a Bachelor and Dream Life.”</p> + +<p>The minister shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I take the newspapers, and I always read them +through—stories, poetry, sentiment, editorials, and +all.”</p> + +<p>“Will you allow me to suggest some reading for +you? and I should take the greatest pleasure in lending +you the books.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you.”</p> + +<p>“Baxter’s Call to the Unconverted is an excellent +book for——.”</p> + +<p>“It is <i>so</i> stupid!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Carlisle was horrified.</p> + +<p>“I would not be hired to read it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span></p> + +<p>“Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, perhaps, would suit +your taste better.”</p> + +<p>“I have read it; but don’t you call that a novel?”</p> + +<p>“An allegory.”</p> + +<p>“If I mistake not, I saw you reading Uncle Tom’s +Cabin. I’m sure that is a novel, and no better novel +either than any of Dickens’s.”</p> + +<p>“It is a moral and philanthropic work.”</p> + +<p>“So are Dickens’s works. Indeed, I have never read +a novel from which a great deal of good might not be +obtained, though I know there are such.”</p> + +<p>“Mere fictions generally have a debasing tendency.”</p> + +<p>“I judge novels as I do anything else—by their +own merits. If I understand you, Mr. Carlisle, you +object to works of fiction, as such, and not on account +of any evil they may contain.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly.”</p> + +<p>“You insist that the book must be true in its +narrative in order to be good.”</p> + +<p>“I do.”</p> + +<p>“Then you despise the teachings of Him you profess +to serve. He spoke in parables—in fiction. I +do not understand the Prodigal Son to be a narrative +of facts.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not.”</p> + +<p>“Then why may not Scott, Dickens, Irving, Miss +Bremer, and Miss Leslie teach us love and charity +through the same medium?”</p> + +<p>“Such works vitiate the taste.”</p> + +<p>“O, it is the taste, and not the heart, that is damaged.”</p> + +<p>“Both; the latter through the former. Let me induce +you to read Baxter’s Call, and you will then +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span>allow that you have obtained more real good from it +than from all the novels you ever read in your life.”</p> + +<p>“It is too dull and insipid for me. I must draw +my inspiration from more sparkling fountains.”</p> + +<p>“You misjudge the book.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I do. I am not a saint, I am willing to +acknowledge; therefore it does not suit me. And I +fancy it is so with half the world, who, rejecting the +counsels of the church, get their wisdom and their +goodness from works of fiction. They are readable to +those whose taste, like mine, has not become sanctified; +without them they would read nothing, and thus +the world is better for novels.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Carlisle could not but grant that there was some +truth in what Mary had said; and though he did not, +in so many words, yield the point, an impression was +produced upon his mind which could not fail to soften +down the bigotry of his views.</p> + +<p>But the merry, fearless, independent tones of the +eloquent advocate of works of fiction, went deeper +down than the mind, and touched a weak spot in his +theological heart. Her pretty, sparkling eye, roused +and animated by her earnest thought, were irresistible; +and the Rev. Mr. Carlisle, maugre the carnal +nature of the fair debater, actually fell in love with +the contemner of Baxter’s immortal works.</p> + +<p>Mary was undoubtedly a great sinner, but she was +a beautiful and spirited girl for all that. We will not +trouble the reader with the ingenious plans which the +enamoured minister laid that night to reclaim the +erring beauty; it is only necessary to say that, within +a week, he popped the question to her; and that she, +out of consideration for her sister, refused to consider +the proposal.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span></p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_19"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Susan was a docile lamb, and her conversion progressed +to the entire satisfaction of her spiritual +adviser. It was rumored that she was to be “propounded” +on the following Sabbath.</p> + +<p>Mary had quite as strong a veneration for spiritual +things as her sister; but she was too straightforward +to assume what she did not possess, and too sensible to +be led into imaginary raptures by any extraneous +influence. She knew Susan too well to believe her +holy aspirations were real; she knew that the poor +girl had involuntarily deluded herself. She was not +surprised to hear that she had concluded to join the +church.</p> + +<p>“Susan, you are deceiving yourself. You love the +fold for the sake of the shepherd,” said she.</p> + +<p>“Nay, sister, you wrong me. Can you think me a +hypocrite?”</p> + +<p>“Not a hypocrite; you have misled yourself.”</p> + +<p>“I have carefully examined my heart, and I am confident +that I am not deluded.”</p> + +<p>“What would you say if I should tell you that Mr. +Carlisle can never love you?”</p> + +<p>“I should say that you knew nothing about it,” +replied Susan, unthinkingly; but in an instant she +corrected the mistake. “But that has nothing to do +with it.”</p> + +<p>“I fear it has. Tell me honestly, Susan, do you +not love Mr. Carlisle? I will not laugh at you.”</p> + +<p>Susan hesitated.</p> + +<p>“Be candid sister.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span></p> + +<p>“I do not love him; but if he loved me, I feel that +I could return his affection.”</p> + +<p>“He does not love you, Susan.”</p> + +<p>The ambitious “sheep” looked earnestly into the +face of her sister.</p> + +<p>“How do you know?”</p> + +<p>“I <i>do</i> know.”</p> + +<p>Susan looked pensive and sad.</p> + +<p>“What do you know?”</p> + +<p>“That he has even offered his hand and heart to +another.”</p> + +<p>“The hypocrite!” exclaimed Susan, with a flushed +face.</p> + +<p>“Why, sis!” and Mary was filled with astonishment, +for it appeared from Susan’s violent ebullition of +feeling that the matter had passed much farther than +she had suspected. “Why do you use that pointed +word? Did he ever speak to you of love?”</p> + +<p>“Never; but he has led me to believe by his constant +attentions that he was interested in me.”</p> + +<p>“That was professional, sis; you have mistaken his +zeal to bring you into the fold for love. I warned +you of this.”</p> + +<p>“You did; I am a fool. But to whom has he +offered himself.”</p> + +<p>“It is a secret.”</p> + +<p>“Tell <i>me</i>!”</p> + +<p>“Will you be discreet?”</p> + +<p>“I will.”</p> + +<p>“To me!”</p> + +<p>“To you! You who despised Baxter’s Call and +Saints’ Rest?”</p> + +<p>“Even so. Extremes meet sometimes.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span></p> + +<p>“I wish you joy, Mary.”</p> + +<p>“But I declined the offer.”</p> + +<p>“Why?”</p> + +<p>“For your sake. I knew that you loved him.”</p> + +<p>Susan was deeply affected at the generosity of her +sister.</p> + +<p>“I do not love him, sister. Do not let me be an +obstacle in the way of your happiness.”</p> + +<p>“I have not said that I loved him.”</p> + +<p>“But you do?”</p> + +<p>“I have refused him.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, he is a noble and a good man, besides +being handsome and talented. You need not be a +fool because I have been. I assure you I am completely +cured; I think he is a flirt.”</p> + +<p>Mary did not think so, and the young minister was +too deeply enamoured of her, too devotedly admired +her wit and beauty, no less than her innate goodness +of heart, to be content with a refusal. When he renewed +his suit, the spirited girl was more tractable, +and in process of time they were married.</p> + +<p>Whether Mr. Carlisle ever succeeded in removing +those pernicious notions about novels from the mind +of his wife, we are unable to say; but we do know +that Scott, Dickens, and Irving have found a place on +the shelves of his library, beside the tomes of theology +and history; and we infer that a mutual influence has +brought each to adopt more reasonable views both of +Baxter and the novelists.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_MERCANTILE_ANGEL"> + THE MERCANTILE ANGEL. + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d00'><span class='upper-case'>“The</span> contemptible little jackanapes! he had the +audacity to ask me to play whist with him!” +exclaimed Sophia Danvers to her sister.</p> + +<p>“And why should he not, sister?” answered Mary +Danvers, calmly.</p> + +<p>“Why should he not, indeed! Did he think I +would demean myself by playing whist with a clerk—one +of my father’s servants?” and Sophia tossed her +head in proud disdain.</p> + +<p>“I can see no impropriety in your associating with +him, Sophia. He is certainly a handsome, intelligent +and well-behaved young man.”</p> + +<p>“Behaves well enough, for aught I know; but only +think of it—a clerk in our drawing room! For my +part, I wonder how father could ever think of such a +thing as admitting him into the family.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose it was because he liked the looks of +him.”</p> + +<p>“What will Mr. Augustus Fitzherbert say when he +finds us associating with poor clerks—the trash of +counting rooms?”</p> + +<p>“It matters little to me what he thinks; he is a +conceited puppy, and I wonder that you can endure +his presence,” replied Mary, smartly.</p> + +<p>“But he is the leader of the <i>ton</i>, Mary,” said +Sophia, astonished at the plebeian notions of her sister.</p> + +<p>“He is a perfect flat, for all that, and infinitely +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span>inferior, in all that constitutes a man, to Mr. Harlowe, +whom you affect to despise.”</p> + +<p>The conversation was interrupted by the entrance +of Mr. Danvers.</p> + +<p>“How could you bring that horrible clerk into the +house, papa?” said Sophia, as the merchant prince +seated himself by the blazing grate.</p> + +<p>“Horrible clerk! Pray, what is the matter with +him?” asked Mr. Danvers, evincing some surprise at +the plain speech of his daughter.</p> + +<p>“Why, he is a clerk.”</p> + +<p>“But a respectable young man.”</p> + +<p>“Respectable enough, but not fashionable, papa.”</p> + +<p>“I was a clerk once, Sophia; I commenced by +sweeping out a store, and carrying bundles about the +city.”</p> + +<p>“How absurdly you talk, papa!”</p> + +<p>“But Mr. Harlowe is a very estimable young man; +I am confident you will find him agreeable company.”</p> + +<p>“I shall have nothing to say to him,” replied +Sophia, with a shrug of the shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Beware, Sophia; there is an old proverb, you +know, about entertaining angels unawares.”</p> + +<p>Sophia laughed heartily at the idea of a poor clerk +being an angel.</p> + +<p>“But what says Mary?” asked the merchant, turning +to his gentle-hearted daughter.</p> + +<p>“O, <i>I</i> like him very much; we are already fast +friends,” replied Mary, and a slight blush seemed to +emphasize the remark.</p> + +<p>“Just like her, papa; I should not wonder if she +got head over heels in love with your mercantile +angel.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span></p> + +<p>“She must do as she pleases about that,” replied +Mr. Danvers, smiling.</p> + +<p>“Pooh, Sophy! who said a word about falling in +love? Can’t a body be civil to a young gentleman +without falling in love with him?”</p> + +<p>The pretty Mary blushed as she spoke, in good +earnest—blushed so palpably that her father began to +think the affair was something more than a mere jest.</p> + +<p>“But pray, papa, when does your new partner +arrive?” asked Sophia. “If all the accounts I have +heard of his wit, gallantry, and personal attractions +are true, I shall certainly set my cap for him.”</p> + +<p>“He will appear one of these days,” replied Mr. +Danvers.</p> + +<p>“I hope you will not keep this stupid clerk in the +house after he comes.”</p> + +<p>“I certainly shall.”</p> + +<p>“But, papa, we shall ‘lose caste’ if you do; it is +really abominable.”</p> + +<p>“Small loss, my child. If we are dependent upon +the apes and puppies of fashionable life for our position +in society, the sooner we lose it the better for +our own self-respect,” said Mr. Danvers, smiling good +humoredly.</p> + +<p>“You are absurd, papa.”</p> + +<p>“Now, Sophy, you have given me a lesson, let me +give you one. The idol you worship is more senseless +than those of the Feegee Islands. Fashionable society +is as hollow as a brass pan; place no reliance upon +it. The fops and fools who follow in your train are +as soulless as they are brainless.”</p> + +<p>“I wish Mr. Augustus Fitzherbert could hear you +say so,” added Sophia.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span></p> + +<p>“Mr. Augustus Fitzherbert was a journeyman barber +in New Orleans, less than a year ago. I had +the honor of being shaved by him last winter when +I was there.”</p> + +<p>“O, horrid, papa! Why have you not exposed +him?”</p> + +<p>“Why should I, my child? He is as good a fellow, +as sensible a person, and, according to your +statement, as fashionable a man as Mr. Finstock, +whose great grandfather was the governor of the +state.”</p> + +<p>“Is it possible that Mr. Fitzherbert was a barber?” +exclaimed Sophia, horrified at the appalling statement.</p> + +<p>“Nothing else, my child.”</p> + +<p>“An impostor?” added Mary.</p> + +<p>“Just so. Probably he is trying to obtain a rich +wife.”</p> + +<p>“It is abominable, I declare! One hardly knows, +nowadays, who is respectable and who is not,” said +Sophia.</p> + +<p>“Therefore, my child, we ought not to speak so +disparagingly of persons in humble life, as you have +to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Pooh! a clerk!”</p> + +<p>At this moment, Mr. Harlowe, the new clerk, +entered the room, and, as Sophia would have expressed +it, had the impudence to seat himself by the side of +Mary Danvers, who appeared not at all averse to this +close proximity with him.</p> + +<p>Frederic Harlowe was, as Mary had said, a handsome, +intelligent, and agreeable young man; and +Sophia, if she could have forgiven him for being a +clerk, could have appreciated his society quite as +highly as did her sister.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span></p> + +<p>With her father’s permission, Mary accepted an invitation +from Frederic to attend Alboni’s last concert.</p> + +<p>They had scarcely left the house before Mr. Augustus +Fitzherbert was ushered into the sitting room. +This gentleman was an exquisite of the “first water.” +In his personal appearance, he certainly was sufficiently +well endowed to challenge the admiration of the fair +sex; but, unfortunately, he was sadly lacking in that +necessary element of a man of sense—brains.</p> + +<p>Sophia could scarcely refrain from expressing the +contempt she felt for the journeyman barber in disguise. +The leader of the “ton,” in her estimation, +was a ruined man.</p> + +<p>The dandy, as a matter of courtesy, inquired for +Mary, and was informed that she had gone to the +concert with Mr. Harlowe.</p> + +<p>“With Mr. Harlowe—a clerk—aw?” said the +ex-journeyman barber, with a sneer, as he twirled up +the long “rat tail” of his mustache.</p> + +<p>“A very worthy young man,” replied Mr. Danvers.</p> + +<p>“No doubt of it, saw; but a clerk—aw.”</p> + +<p>“Pray, were you never a clerk, Mr. Fitzherbert? +<i>I</i> was.”</p> + +<p>“A clerk! No, saw—nevaw!”</p> + +<p>“Did I not meet you in New Orleans last winter?”</p> + +<p>The dandy started up like a parched pea from a hot +pan.</p> + +<p>“I have a faint recollection of having met you in +a barber’s shop there,” continued the merchant, tormentingly.</p> + +<p>“Aw, very likely, saw. I patronize the barbaws.”</p> + +<p>“And now I think of it, you wore a little white +apron, and, if I mistake not, I had the pleasure of +being shaved by <i>you</i> in person.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span></p> + +<p>“Quite a mistake, saw, I assuaw you.”</p> + +<p>Suddenly Mr. Augustus Fitzherbert, whose real +name was John Smike, remembered an imperative +engagement, and hastened to take his leave.</p> + +<p>He was seen to enter the cars for New York on +the following day, and nothing has been heard of him +since.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_23"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Of course the reader understands that Frederic Harlowe +and Mary are deeply, irretrievably in love with +each other by this time. The poor clerk had won his +way to the heart of the fair girl, and she, poor thing, +had been captivated by the manly attractions, the +noble soul of him who offered incense before her +shrine.</p> + +<p>As the world goes, it would be deemed a very +wicked thing for a poor clerk to fall in love with the +daughter of his aristocratic employer. Some people +would say it was ungrateful in him thus to spirit +away the affections of a confiding girl, when his position +and prospects did not warrant his presuming to +be her husband.</p> + +<p>These questions are still open to the casuist. He +may debate them to his entire satisfaction; but Mr. +Danvers, either because he was more sensible than +many of the aristocratic merchants of the day, or for +some other equally potent reason, neglected to make +any fuss about the matter, and suffered the clerk to +woo and win his daughter, without even remonstrating +against the wickedness of the act.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span></p> + +<p>But Sophia was deeply grieved by her sister’s folly, +as she deemed it, and used all the arguments in the +range of her shallow sophistry to dissuade her from +the folly and madness of wedding a clerk.</p> + +<p>Mary was obstinate. The only excuse she offered +in palliation of the flagrant misdemeanor was, that she +loved him; and if she <i>loved</i> a scavenger, she would +cling to him with the last breath she was permitted +to draw.</p> + +<p>“A ring!” exclaimed Sophia, one day when matters +appeared to have taken a very decided turn. +“Well, well, I suppose you are engaged.”</p> + +<p>“We are, Sophia,” replied Mary, with a face +radiant with happiness.</p> + +<p>“And you intend to be married?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly we do; that is the end of an engagement.”</p> + +<p>“My conscience! to think that the daughter of a +merchant prince should became the wife of a poor, +insignificant clerk!”</p> + +<p>“Nothing very alarming about it, Sophy; it wouldn’t +be half so ridiculous as another daughter of a merchant +prince becoming the wife of an ex-journeyman barber. +I believe Mr. Augustus Fitzherbert was your beau +ideal of what a fashionable husband ought to be.”</p> + +<p>“The impostor!”</p> + +<p>“I am at least sure that Frederic is not an imposter—a +humbug; one would not be likely to <i>assume</i> +the character of a clerk.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not; but pray, sister, when do you intend +to become the wife of this counting room +cherub?”</p> + +<p>“The day has not been fixed yet; in the spring, +probably.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span></p> + +<p>“And may I ask what you intend to do with +yourself? His salary is only a thousand dollars a +year.”</p> + +<p>“We can get along very well on that sum.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I suppose so, and live in some ten footer in +a dark alley.”</p> + +<p>“We intend to live out of town, in a nice little +cottage.”</p> + +<p>“Y-e-s! a nice little cottage!” drawled Sophia, in +derision. “O sis, I will show you how to live when +I am married. None of your nice little cottages for +me. But I wonder when the new partner is coming.”</p> + +<p>“Papa told me this morning that he had deferred +the arrangement till next spring, and that the gentleman +would attend to his business at the south as heretofore.”</p> + +<p>“How provoking! I have been reserving my affections +on purpose for him. I mean to make a conquest +of him in just one month.”</p> + +<p>“How foolish you talk, Sophy! One would think +you had entirely forgotten your maidenly delicacy.”</p> + +<p>“Pooh! I’m jesting; it’s between <i>us</i>;” and Sophia +relapsed into a revery, which, we are almost sure, +related to the aforesaid new partner, who was not only +a nice young man, but was to put thirty thousand +dollars into the concern when he became a partner.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The winter passed away, and the spring came. +Frederic and Mary were to be married in a few days. +Mr. Danvers, to the infinite chagrin of Sophia, had +readily consented to the match. The proud sister—though +in the natural goodness of her heart she would +not have had Mary’s affections blasted—would fain +have had a little opposition, to save appearances.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span></p> + +<p>The bridal day came, and after the ceremony had +been performed, the happy parties started for their +new residence in the suburbs. Sophia, who had acted +as bridesmaid, was to accompany them.</p> + +<p>The carriage wound through an elm-shaded road, +and suddenly brought to the view of the delighted +party a splendid country residence.</p> + +<p>“That is the cottage,” exclaimed the bride.</p> + +<p>“That a cottage! Why, Mary it is a palace!” +replied Sophia, in utter astonishment; for she had +never taken interest enough in her sister’s affairs to +visit her proposed residence.</p> + +<p>The carriage stopped before the door, which was +half hidden behind a vine-laced portico, and the party +alighted.</p> + +<p>The place was a perfect paradise, and many were +the encomiums lavished upon it by the bewildered +Sophia.</p> + +<p>“You cannot think how surprised I was when I +first beheld it,” said Mary, when she and Sophia were +alone. “It seemed more like a dream of fairyland +than a reality. But Frederic is so very odd about +these things.”</p> + +<p>“I should think that he was! Why, sis, it will +certainly ruin him, a poor clerk on a thousand dollars +salary.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he knows best; he says the rent is nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing, indeed; but it will eat up his poor pittance.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I gave him a lesson on extravagance; but +he only laughed in my face, and said he knew what +he was about.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span></p> + +<p>“But here are Frederic and father; I am sure papa +has been scolding him for his recklessness.”</p> + +<p>“He does not look as though the scolding had produced +a very powerful effect,” said Mary, as she saw +her husband’s smiling countenance.</p> + +<p>“What a beautiful house!” exclaimed Sophia, as +Frederic Harlowe joined the group.</p> + +<p>“A fitting nest for my pretty bird,” replied the +husband, gayly, as he chucked his blushing wife under +the chin.</p> + +<p>“I should think your thousand dollars a year would +have to suffer some,” said Sophia, bluntly.</p> + +<p>“O, your father has been so very good as to elevate +me a peg, so that I can well afford to incur the expense.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, my child,” interposed Mr. Danvers; “you +know I said something to you about entertaining +angels unawares. Sophy, <i>Mr. Frederic Harlowe</i> is +the new partner.”</p> + +<p>“What an abominable cheat, papa! I’ll warrant +you told Mary of it in the beginning,” said Sophia, +with abundant good humor.</p> + +<p>“Nay, she knew nothing of it till a few days before +her marriage. This was all Mr. Harlowe’s whim; he +must explain it for himself.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Harlowe did attempt to explain his motive in +entering the family <i>incog.</i>, but it was a lame explanation. +Probably the reader, who readily penetrates +the secret thoughts of the hero of the story, has already +divined his motive. He wanted a wife, and had +the sense to seek for genuine goodness in preference +to name and position in society. He won the daughter +of a merchant prince as a simple clerk; there was +no doubt that she loved him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span></p> + +<p>Mary was very much surprised, and perhaps not a +little chagrined, to find the romance of marrying a +clerk so suddenly disappear; but in the wealth of a +mutual love they were richer than in the smiles of +fickle fortune, which had blessed them with an abundance +of the good things of this life.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CONFESSIONS_OF_A_CONCEITED_MAN"> + CONFESSIONS OF A CONCEITED MAN; + <br> + <span class='allsmcap'>BEING THE SUBSTANCE OF WHAT SOME YOUNG<br> + MEN THINK, BUT NEVER SAY.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d00'><span class='upper-case'>When</span> I was a boy, the schoolmaster succeeded +in impressing upon my mind the truth of +that common saying—“If a man thinks nothing of +himself, no one will think any thing of him.” The +pedagogue believed it himself, and his daily deportment +was based upon it. Whether I learned any +thing else of him I cannot now say; but I am sure I +learned to set a high value upon myself.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp84" id="i_285" style="max-width: 38.8125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_285.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <span class="smcap">Confessions of a Conceited Man.</span> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span></p> + +<p>At the age of eighteen, I found myself in the service +of an eminent merchant of Boston, in the capacity +of assistant bookkeeper, on the paltry salary of four +hundred dollars a year. I was worth more—I was +sure of it. But perhaps my employer had not yet +come to a knowledge of the treasure he possessed in +me, and I wisely determined to wait till I had a better +opportunity to distinguish myself.</p> + +<p>Certainly I took a great deal of pride in discharging +the duties of my position. I labored assiduously to +please both the merchant and the head bookkeeper, +and they seemed to regard me with satisfaction; but +I resolved to make myself so necessary that the +business could not be carried on without me.</p> + +<p>Whether my imagination was more lively than my +reason, or not, I do not know; but certainly, at the +end of six months I made up my mind that Mr. Bancroft +could not possibly continue in business a single +month without me. As to my superior, he would be +perfectly powerless if I should leave. In fact, I “conceited” +that I was in reality <i>the</i> bookkeeper of the +concern, though he received the salary and did all the +dictating.</p> + +<p>I was an ambitious young man. I built a great +many very pretty castles in the air; among them the +idea of marrying my employer’s beautiful daughter was +not the least attractive. She was a splendid girl—people +called her the belle of Boston—and what to +me was just as insinuating, she was an only child, +and consequently the heiress of all Mr. Bancroft’s +reputed wealth.</p> + +<p>I never was one of that sort who wistfully dream +over fine things, without making an attempt to attain +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span>them. That stale old maxim to the effect that “faint +heart ne’er won fair lady,” was uppermost in my mind. +I had come to the conclusion that Rosabel Bancroft +should have the supreme felicity of becoming my +household deity.</p> + +<p>But the way was full of difficulties. I had never +seen the peerless maiden, save on occasions when I +had called at the house in the capacity of an errand +boy—for the key of the safe, to get Mr. Bancroft +to sign a check, or something of that sort. She was a +proud beauty, and had never even taken the pains to +look at me. “Ah, my fine lady,” thought I, “when +we are married, I will teach you what is what!”</p> + +<p>Certainly I would! And as for marrying her, why, +that was a settled fact in my mind—I had resolved +to do the deed.</p> + +<p>I flattered myself that I was a decidedly good-looking +fellow, and a great many young men cherish this +idea in these progressive times. My looking glass had +told me I was handsome, and there was no going +behind its impressive declaration. But I was aware +that my beauty needed a little cultivation, and accordingly +I applied to Bogle for some of the “compounds,” +and in a few weeks, I had the satisfaction of contemplating +the addition of a downy mustache upon my +well-turned upper lip. I took a great deal of pains +with this beautifier of my physiognomy, and felt perfectly +sure that the charming Rosabel would be unable +to resist my killing attractions.</p> + +<p>There was to be a grand ball at Union Hall, and I +heard that my divinity was to form one of the revellers. +I will not trouble the reader with a relation of +the difficulties that beset me in procuring a ticket—for +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span>the affair was intended solely for the “upper ten;” +but I got one, though it cost me in the neighborhood +of twenty-five dollars, to say nothing of twenty-five +more expended in a fancy vest, cravat, and other little +amiabilities.</p> + +<p>When I was dressed for the occasion, the effect was +perfectly stunning. Rosabel was certainly a goner!</p> + +<p>My <i>entrée</i> into the drawing room seemed to create +a profound sensation. All the gentlemen stared at me, +and I felt assured of being the lion of the evening. +It was plain that my “personal” had created a <i>furor</i> +among the aristocratic dandies; but I tried to treat +them all with respect and politeness. It is true I saw +some of them turn up their noses at me; and all +evinced a disposition to avoid me. But I attributed +all these unmannerly symptoms to the envy which my +superior personal attractions had roused in their +narrow minds. I did not resent their ill nature—I +could afford to be magnanimous.</p> + +<p>I walked like a king through the sumptuous apartments; +indeed I always prided myself on my gait. +More than once, when I have been leisurely promenading +Washington Street, I have felt sure that all the +ladies had singled me out for especial admiration.</p> + +<p>There was something magnificent about my style +of walking, and I did not blame the dear creatures +for sighing when I passed them. It was a great +pity that, in the illiberality of our laws, only one lady +could ever have the satisfaction of calling me her +husband. I am naturally of an sympathetic temperament, +and I assure the reader that it deeply grieved +me to think of the number of fair, promising ladies +who would be disappointed in winning my affections. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span>I could not love them all, and from the bottom of my +heart I pitied those who were doomed to be disappointed.</p> + +<p>Rosabel Bancroft was destined to be my wife. I +had deliberately made up my mind, and though I +thought, in consideration of my condescension in +choosing her from the thousands who would have +rejoiced to win me, she ought to meet me half way. +But I was not over nice, and in deference to the +fashions of the times, I mentally consented to do all +the courting myself.</p> + +<p>I succeeded in getting an introduction to her, and +she consented to dance with me. I was not much +elated; I regarded my progress as a matter of course. +During the quadrille, I did the agreeable to my own +satisfaction, and though the impression was not as +marked and decided as I had expected, I was assured +that everything was going on well.</p> + +<p>“Procrastination is the thief of time,” said somebody. +I don’t remember whether it was Plato or +Diogenes. When the dance was ended, and I had +conducted her to the drawing room, I made bold to +express my admiration of her beauty and grace. She +blushed, smiled, and looked confused. Poor thing! +how could she help it?</p> + +<p>Just then a dandy spoke a word to her, and then +retreated. I was not to be balked, and with all the +eloquence I possessed—and I would just hint that +Demosthenes, Cicero, or Daniel Webster couldn’t hold +a candle to me in making a speech—I popped the +question.</p> + +<p>It was handsomely done, and Rosabel was taken all +aback. I expected all this—I knew all about making +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span>love—Ovid couldn’t tell me any thing about it. +Girls at this momentous crisis, do not always mean +half they say; and I was prepared to hear her declare +it was rather sudden, that she must ask papa about +it, and all that sort of thing.</p> + +<p>But my ardent confession seemed to throw her into +a perspiration—if I may so unpoetically express the +confusion which my declaration produced.</p> + +<p>“You impudent puppy!” exclaimed she, her pretty +cheeks red with anger; “so you are one of my +father’s clerks, and have the presumption to ask me +to dance with you, and then to offer me such an +indignity! Leave my presence, sir, this instant, or I +will ask my friends to kick you away!”</p> + +<p>Whew! I did feel sheepish for a moment; but then, +poor thing, she did not know her own mind. Some +of those envious noodles had been exciting her prejudices +against me. That dandy had told her I was her +father’s clerk, before I had had an opportunity to +weave my spell upon her.</p> + +<p>Comforting myself with the assurance that there were +thousands of heiresses who were more discriminating +than she, I whistled an air, and ambled away from +her. If there is any person on the face of the earth +whom I pity more than another, it is he or she who +wilfully throws away a good opportunity.</p> + +<p>Poor Rosabel! I pitied <i>her</i>! I believe I was +unselfish enough to deplore her misfortune more acutely +than I did my own. I had lost nothing that might +not be regained; she had cast away one of the most +brilliant opportunities that ever dawned upon the +destiny of a maiden.</p> + +<p>I have the credit, among those who know me best, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span>of possessing firmness in a very remarkable degree; +and it was melancholy to think she had cast me off +forever, for, I am sure, if she had fallen upon her +knees, and begged and pleaded, I should have been +as firm as a rock. Those insulting, unlady-like words, +had “fixed her flint”—to use a rather homely phrase, +which I believe did not originate either with Addison +or Macaulay.</p> + +<p>I did not dance any more that evening. I found +that I had fallen among fools, who could not appreciate +me. And strange as it may seem to the unphilosophical +reader, the fact did not in the least disturb +my natural equanimity. Why should it? Did not +Socrates experience the same coldness at the hands +of the fickle Athenians, who put him to death by +mixing poison with his “sherry cobbler?” Why +should I expect a better fate than others whose misfortune +it is to be superior to the masses around +them?</p> + +<p>I left the hall regretting only that the eighth part of +my year’s salary had been wasted in the adventure.</p> + +<p>When I went to the counting room next morning, +Mr. Bancroft summoned me to his private office.</p> + +<p>“You are a fool, young man!” said he, and his +face was flushed with anger.</p> + +<p>O the ingratitude of the world! This was a pretty +return for the distinguished honor I had intended for his +daughter, and which only her own wilfulness had prevented +her from receiving at my hands.</p> + +<p>“If you ever presume to speak to my daughter +again, under any circumstances, I will immediately +discharge you from my service,” continued he, with +the utmost coolness.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span></p> + +<p>“Nonsense!” thought I—and I beg the reader +will not suppose I uttered this unseemly expression—“you +won’t do any thing of the kind. You know +your own interest too well.”</p> + +<p>Discharge me! I should have liked to see him do it. +I believe I should actually have gone, if he had said +the word, and left him to take care of his business +as best he might! If he had got me mad, I should +just as lief seem him fail as not—it is my temperament. +To a friend, I am a friend; to a foe, a foe +of the most determined sort.</p> + +<p>But he knew better than to provoke me too far. +Bancroft was a shrewd man. He knew just how far +I would have permitted him to go, in deference to the +dignity of his position, and he did not exceed that +limit. It was a lucky thing for him that he did not. +Disaster, mercantile ruin, would have been the inevitable +consequence of such an imprudent act!</p> + +<p>I regret that my space does not permit me to give +the reader the details of my exploits in the arena of +Cupid for the succeeding six months. They were +rich and varied; but I am happy to console my +friends and admirers with the assurance that I am at +present engaged in writing out the history of the +whole period, which in due time will appear, complete +in seven volumes, with portraits and illustrations.</p> + +<p>From the events of this campaign, I deduce the +melancholy conclusion that the fair sex are sadly +wanting in good taste and nice discrimination. The +fact that I am still a bachelor is a sad commentary +on this truth. The ladies “are not what they are +cracked up to be”—to use a rather inelegant expression, +which I think was original with Hogg, the +poet.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span></p> + +<p>But disappointed of my matrimonial hopes, I determined +to make commerce the study of my life. I +had about made up my mind to offer my time and +talents to Bancroft—in short, to offer to become his +partner in business. I never was much in favor of +these complications of mercantile affairs, and to become +a partner of his might involve me in some future +sacrifices, which it might not be pleasant to make.</p> + +<p>I thought it best, on the whole, to retain my +present situation. But the salary was too small. I +must wait upon Bancroft, and consent to remain in +his service, if he would add a hundred dollars to my +pay. Of course he could not be so imprudent as to +run the risk of failure and utter ruin for so trifling a +matter as this.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, Mr. Bancroft,” said I, in my +blandest tones,—for even a highway robber is polite +nowadays when he blows a man’s brains out—“but +I have taken the liberty to wait upon you for the +purpose of asking you to advance my salary from +four to five hundred dollars.”</p> + +<p>“Go to the devil!” said he, rudely.</p> + +<p>It is astonishing how some folks will even kick an +angel out of their presence. Poor Bancroft! he “stood +in his own light,”—to borrow from Carlyle or Mephistopheles, +I forget which.</p> + +<p>“You are dear help at two hundred a year; I don’t +want you any longer at any price,” continued Bancroft.</p> + +<p>“There’s stupidity for you!” thought I.</p> + +<p>My blood was up, and I determined to leave him, +let the consequences be what they might.</p> + +<p>I did leave him, assured that the mercantile world +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span>would be startled to its centre by a crash, in a very short +time. The concern has not broke down yet, but +there is a moral certainty that it must soon “go by +the board,”—to quote from Captain Cook, or Sir John +Franklin, it is not very material which.</p> + +<p>I had not been out of business a week before I +discovered that literature was the proper sphere for +me. I intend to bring about a revolution in the world +of letters, by introducing an entirely new style of +composition, adapted both to prose and poetry. I +have several works under way, including a complete +History of the Musquito Kingdom, Annals of Hull, +and a poem in two hundred and seventy-six cantos, +on the Want of Appreciation and Correct Taste in +the Female Sex,—all of which will appear as soon +as written and published.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_BACHELOR_BEAU"> + THE BACHELOR BEAU. + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<img class="drop-cap w40" src="images/i_295.jpg" alt="Y" style="max-width: 15em;"> + +<p class='drop-cap d10'><span class='upper-case'>“I can</span> no longer struggle +against the current of misfortune,” +exclaimed Mr. Whiting, +a small merchant, who +had by the pressure of hard +times become somewhat involved; +“I am ruined!”</p> + +<p>“Nay, my husband, do +not be distressed. Worse +calamities than this might +happen, and we will make the +best of it.”</p> + +<p>“But wife, I must fail; I cannot sustain myself +another day.”</p> + +<p>“You have done all you can to avert the misfortune, +and if it must come, let us not repine, but bear it +like Christians.”</p> + +<p>“I will try to keep calm; but it seems hard, after +weathering the worst of the storm, to be wrecked in +sight of the land.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps your creditors will give you more time,” +suggested Mrs. Whiting.</p> + +<p>“I cannot hope it; the note which comes due to-morrow, +and which I am utterly unable to pay, is in +the hands of my bitterest enemy.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span></p> + +<p>“He will not distress you.”</p> + +<p>“I know him well. He is a villain!”</p> + +<p>“Whom do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Bacher.”</p> + +<p>“God help us, if <i>he</i> is your creditor!”</p> + +<p>“As near as I can learn, he bought the note on +purpose to perplex me, and perhaps to obtain his +revenge.”</p> + +<p>“Why is he so bitter against you?”</p> + +<p>“Because I exposed a swindling operation, in which +he was engaged.”</p> + +<p>“How much is the note, father?” asked a beautiful, +hazel-eyed girl, who had not before spoken, but +who had been listening with intense interest to the +conversation between her father and mother.</p> + +<p>“Three thousand dollars, Sarah,” replied Mr. +Whiting, fixing a glance of anxiety upon the fair +girl.</p> + +<p>“Can’t you borrow it, father?”</p> + +<p>“Alas! my child, my credit is very much impaired. +My notes have been too thick in State Street for me +to borrow without paying exorbitant interest; and +that, I think, would wrong my creditors in case any +thing should happen.”</p> + +<p>“It is not so very dreadful to fail, is it, father?”</p> + +<p>“It would be ruinous to me, my child. If I could +pay this note to-morrow, I could get along very well. +I should not have been embarrassed, had it not been +for the failure of Jones. But I suppose it must be, +and we must content ourselves to live a little more +closely than we have been accustomed to do.”</p> + +<p>Sarah asked no more questions, and though the +conversation was continued by her father and mother, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span>she seemed to pay no attention to it. She appeared +to be musing deeply over something.</p> + +<p>As the evening advanced, John Barnet, a clerk, +who had for some months been attentive to Sarah, +and who, report said, was a favored suitor, made his +accustomed evening visit. Every body said that John +Barnet was a nice young man, and every way worthy +of so beautiful and amiable a wife as Sarah Whiting +would undoubtedly make him.</p> + +<p>If there is any thing in smiles and gentle words, +the affection of the young clerk was warmly reciprocated +by Sarah. They were not engaged, however, +though he called at Mr. Whiting’s house from four to +seven evenings in a week.</p> + +<p>Mr. Whiting and his wife retired at an early hour +in the evening, leaving the lovers “to have it out.”</p> + +<p>As usual, John Barnet begged her to make him +happy by promising to be his forever. To his utter +surprise and consternation, she told him she could +never be his wife, and entreated him to think no +more about her. Of course, the lover pressed her for +an explanation of this sudden and remarkable change +in her manner towards him. But she could not even +do this, and John took his leave, feeling that he had +not another friend in the world.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_24"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Sarah Whiting had another suitor in the person of +a wealthy and eccentric old bachelor, who, after withstanding +the assaults of thousands of bright eyes and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[298]</span>bewitching smiles, had laid his heart at the feet of +our beautiful heroine. We don’t blame the old fellow +for falling in love with her, any more than we +blame Sarah for laughing at him, when he threw himself +at her feet and “popped the question.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Landyke Somerset was only about forty, so +that, if Sarah had been less cruel, it would not have +been exactly “May and December,” but about June +and November. He loved her with all the fervor +which the march of time had left in his heart, and +was actually disconsolate when she told him “no.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Landyke Somerset was not an ill-looking man, +though he was an old bachelor. True, his hair was +not as black and glossy as it had been twenty years +before; there was an occasional iron-gray hair, which +looked a little suspicious; yet, when he began to +make his court to the divinity of his dreams, even +these suddenly disappeared, and people were malicious +enough to say it was through the influence of a +certain compound applied by the barber. True, also, +there was now and then a wrinkle in his face, which +some young ladies affect to dislike. But what of +all these things? Old age is honorable, and the iron-gray +hairs and the wrinkles did not in the least mar +the kindly expression of his phiz.</p> + +<p>He was a very clever fellow, and though the merry +little Sarah Whiting could not help laughing when he +“popped the question” to her, she would very willingly +have had just such an uncle, or something of that +sort. In short she <i>liked</i> him, but she didn’t <i>love</i> him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Landyke Somerset was a firm believer in the +ancient verity, that “faint heart ne’er won fair lady,” +and he determined not to faint or give up the chase +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[299]</span>till he had bagged the game, or had seen her the +wife of another. Consequently he held out all the +inducements in his power to engage her heart in his +favor.</p> + +<p>He was not what young ladies called an “old fool,” +for he had sense enough to feel that he should never +be able to gain the victory on the strength of his +physical attributes—his personal beauty. But he +was an amiable man at heart, and trusted solely to +the influence of his moral and mental qualities for +success. They had thus far failed him, though he still +persevered.</p> + +<p>Mr. Whiting, readily understanding what these attentions +meant, did all in his power to favor his suit; +for he was an old-fashioned man, and placed more +confidence in the power of a good heart and plenty of +money to make his daughter happy, than he did in +the more common attributes of youth and good looks, +even though the possessor of the first-named commodities +had passed the meridian of life.</p> + +<p>But Sarah had a mind of her own in these matters, +and though she appreciated her kind father’s motives, +she could not think of throwing herself away on a +man of forty, even if he was an angel.</p> + +<p>It was only the afternoon of the day preceding the +conversation we have recorded, that Mr. Somerset had +paid her a visit, and renewed his protestations of love +to her. She had told him for the twentieth time, +“no.”</p> + +<p>When she heard her father relate the particulars of +his embarrassment, the image of Mr. Somerset had +involuntarily presented itself to her mind. He was +abundantly able to assist them in this emergency, and +for the love he bore her perhaps he would.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[300]</span></p> + +<p>But, then, if she applied to him, and he afforded +the necessary aid, she would be under an obligation +to him, which she might find it very inconvenient to +discharge.</p> + +<p>Ruin stared her father in the face. He had said it +was <i>ruin</i>, and she was sure it was. What right had +she to be selfish or over nice, when, perhaps, she had +it in her power to avert the dreadful calamity? Her +father was all in all to her; and though some girls are +so sentimental as to sacrifice father, mother, home, +friends, for a lover, she would sacrifice a dozen lovers +for her father alone, to say nothing of her mother, +who was at least worth two dozen more.</p> + +<p>Let not the reader suppose the pretty Sarah did not +love him upon whom she had smiled—she did; but +her bump of veneration was bigger than that other +bump on the back of the head.</p> + +<p>Her resolution was formed, and about eleven o’clock +the next day, she put on her bonnet, and walked up +to the Revere House, where Mr. Somerset boarded.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_20"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Mr. Landyke Somerset was a nabob, and retained +a private parlor, to which the obsequious servant conducted +Sarah Whiting.</p> + +<p>Of course the bachelor was reasonably astonished at +this visit.</p> + +<p>“Indeed, Miss Whiting, I am delighted to see +you,” exclaimed he, with rapturous enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“I knew you would be, and that’s the reason I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[301]</span>came,” laughed Sarah, and at the same time she +blushed so sweetly that Mr. Landyke Somerset had +almost dissolved in a rapture of delight.</p> + +<p>“Ah, my dear Miss Whiting, you are not always +so kind to me as you are to-day.”</p> + +<p>“But I always will be hereafter,” and Sarah +smiled, though her heart beat like the boundings of a +race horse.</p> + +<p>“Ah, you are so good, and so pretty, too.”</p> + +<p>“I will save you the trouble of all these useless +adulations, by saying that I have come to accept your +oft-repeated proposal.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed!” and the bachelor was taken “all aback;” +he could hardly believe the evidence of his own +senses.</p> + +<p>“What, sir! Do you recede from your offer?” +said Sarah, laughing with all her might—a very convenient +cloak for young ladies sometimes.</p> + +<p>“Capital joke, eh?” and the bachelor laughed too.</p> + +<p>“No joke, sir; I am in earnest.”</p> + +<p>Sarah looked as sober as the matron of an orphan +asylum.</p> + +<p>“Nay, nay, my pretty Sarah, do not make sport of +me.”</p> + +<p>“I will give you my promise in writing, with my +signature, if you desire it.”</p> + +<p>“Is it possible that you mean so?” said the +doubtful Mr. Somerset.</p> + +<p>“Take my hand.”</p> + +<p>The bachelor took it, pressed it to his lips, and +began to think himself the happiest fellow in the +world.</p> + +<p>“I am yours, Mr. Somerset.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[302]</span></p> + +<p>“Bless you, Sarah!”</p> + +<p>“On one condition.”</p> + +<p>“Name it.”</p> + +<p>Sarah recounted the story of her father’s embarrassment.</p> + +<p>“Fill me out a check for three thousand dollars, and +I promise to become your wife within one year.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Landyke Somerset mused. He appeared to be +in doubt. He was a high-souled man, and the idea +of <i>buying</i> the hand of his wife was to the last degree +repugnant to him.</p> + +<p>“You hesitate sir; I know you do not love me,” +said Sarah, with apparent pique.</p> + +<p>“On my soul, I do! I agree; here is the check,” +replied Mr. Somerset, as he seated himself at the +table and drew the check.</p> + +<p>“Now enclose it in a note to my father, saying +you learned his trouble from a mutual friend, and then +beg the privilege of loaning him the amount of the +check.”</p> + +<p>“And you sacrifice yourself to your father, my fair +Sarah!” said the bachelor, as he sealed the note.</p> + +<p>“I do.”</p> + +<p>“You are an angel!”</p> + +<p>“Nay, I must go now.”</p> + +<p>The check did the business, and Mr. Whiting was +as happy as ever he was in his life. Bacher could +not sleep that night because he had been foiled in his +revenge.</p> + +<p>In the evening Mr. Somerset called at the house to +see his future bride. She treated him kindly, and +permitted him to sit by her side, hold her work basket, +and pick up her thimble when she dropped it—which +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[303]</span>was glory enough for an evening, to one as moderate +in his wishes as the bachelor beau of our heroine.</p> + +<p>But about eight o’clock, to Sarah’s utter consternation, +John Barnet paid his usual visit. The poor +clerk was sadly distressed, as well he might be, and +had called to desire an explanation of the cool manner +in which he had been dismissed.</p> + +<p>The presence of Mr. Somerset was all the explanation +he desired. He was uneasy; he could not join +in the conversation, and aware that he was making +himself disagreeable to the party, he determined to +take his leave; but how could he leave her?</p> + +<p>He knew Mr. Somerset to be one of the best men +in the world, and he resolved to request an interview +with him on the spot.</p> + +<p>The worthy bachelor kindly condescended to walk +down the street a short distance with him, and John +Barnet told him the whole story; how he loved Sarah, +and how he had every reason to believe that Sarah +loved him. He was sure that some unfair advantage +had been taken, and he wanted the matter explained.</p> + +<p>“Come back to the house, young man, and I will +give you all the satisfaction you desire.”</p> + +<p>John consented.</p> + +<p>A few minutes sufficed to explain to Mr. Whiting +and the discarded lover the nature of the sacrifice +which the devoted Sarah had made for her father’s +sake.</p> + +<p>“Bless you, my child!” exclaimed the merchant, +his eyes filling with tears of love, as he tenderly embraced +his noble-hearted daughter.</p> + +<p>“You understand it now, don’t you, Mr. Barnet?” +said the bachelor, with a good natured smile.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[304]</span></p> + +<p>“I do, indeed,” replied John, sorrowfully; “she is +a noble girl, and I shall never cease to love her, +though she can never be mine.”</p> + +<p>Sarah cast a sad glance at him, and her eyes filled +with tears. She never knew till that moment how much +she loved the poor clerk. But it was all over now—the +bright dreams of love had passed away, and she +could never be happy again.</p> + +<p>“What, Sarah! do you recede from your promise?” +asked Mr. Somerset.</p> + +<p>“Nay, I do not. Farewell, John! farewell forever!” +and the poor girl sobbed convulsively.</p> + +<p>“Farewell, Sarah!” and the clerk seized his hat +and rushed towards the door.</p> + +<p>“Hallo! stop, young man!” exclaimed Mr. Somerset; +“don’t go off mad. Give me your hand.”</p> + +<p>The bachelor took the clerk’s hand.</p> + +<p>“You are a good fellow; I honor you. Your hand, +Sarah,” and Mr. Somerset took the little white hand +of the weeping maiden, and placed it in that of John +Barnet. “Be happy!”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, sir?” asked Sarah, bewildered +at the actions of the bachelor.</p> + +<p>“Mean? You love him, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“With all my soul!”</p> + +<p>“And you do not love me?”</p> + +<p>Sarah began to understand.</p> + +<p>“I <i>like</i> you.”</p> + +<p>“You are his; be happy! You did not for a moment +suppose I could be so mean as to take advantage of +such a noble act of self-sacrifice as you performed to-day? +No! I love you, but I will not make you +miserable.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[305]</span></p> + +<p>Poor Sarah! How happy she was, and how she +pitied poor Mr. Somerset, who loved her so much! +She felt that, if she had never seen John Barnet, she +would have been glad to become his wife, iron gray +and wrinkles to the contrary notwithstanding—he +was such a dear good soul!</p> + +<p>“Be happy! and that isn’t all; when I die you shall +have half my fortune.”</p> + +<p>The bachelor kept his word, and though he didn’t +die of a broken heart, he did not live many years; +yet when he did die, the hand of woman—of as true +and loving a woman as ever made home a paradise—smoothed +his dying pillow, and closed his eyes in their +last sleep; and there were sincere mourners over his +bier.</p> + +<p>Poor Mr. Landyke Somerset! though he found not +a wife in Sarah Whiting, he found a true friend.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[306]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_GRAND_RECEPTION_BALL"> + THE GRAND RECEPTION BALL. + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d00'><span class='upper-case'>Tiptop</span> is somewhere in the State of Massachusetts; +but, in consideration of the unpleasant +nature of the details of my story, I do not feel at +liberty to state its precise geographical position. Undoubtedly, +too, there are within the limits of our +ancient commonwealth a great many Tiptops, and, by +assigning it a specific <i>locale</i>, many whom the coat fits +will fail to put it on.</p> + +<p>Tiptop was fully up with the times. The distinctions +of caste were as precisely defined and protected as in +New York or Philadelphia. It is true, a belle from +one of the emporiums of fashion would not have felt at +home there; but then the Tiptopites labored to be +as fashionable as the metropolitans, and if they did not +succeed, it was not their fault.</p> + +<p>There were balls, parties, and lyceums in Tiptop; +but, unfortunately for the luminous propensities of the +“upper ten,” they were obliged to call in the aid of +the <i>canaille</i> on these occasions, in order to make the +expense fall as lightly as possible on the glorified +few.</p> + +<p>There was a great excitement in the place when it +was understood that the Hon. Mr. Silas Lumpkin, +M. C., from one of the Western States, proposed to +spend a few days with Squire Rogers, his “chum” in +college.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[307]</span></p> + +<p>The Hon. Mr. Lumpkin was a distinguished man in +his day and generation. Though not thirty-five at the +period of our story, he had made a mark on the +country which time will not immediately obliterate.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Lumpkin was a sensible man, notwithstanding +the temptations of his position to be otherwise. +We have referred to the Congressional Globe, but we +do not find that he ever made a long speech, which, +in our mind, fully establishes his reputation as a +model Congressman.</p> + +<p>The distinguished gentleman’s visit to Tiptop, promised +to be an epoch in the history of the place. The +notables were duly impressed with the honor which +awaited them, and immediately put their heads together +to devise a suitable plan for a public demonstration. +They fully appreciated the great man’s condescension, +and it only remained to make a proper expression of +it.</p> + +<p>A voluntary committee of the most notable of the +notables waited on Squire Rogers in this emergency. +Unfortunately, the Squire was a legal man, and did +not feel competent to advise in an affair of this +kind; and the squire, too, was a sensible man, and +had it not been for the fact that he was a candidate +for the office of representative to the next General +Court, would probably have expressed his disgust at +the whole thing.</p> + +<p>But while the voluntary committee were discussing +a scheme for a public dinner in the town hall, the +ladies decided that a grand reception ball should be +given on the occasion of Mr. Lumpkin’s arrival.</p> + +<p>Of course the matter was settled, for Miss Araminta +Pipkin and Annabellina Punkinton had said so. Miss +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[308]</span>Dorothea Pilkinton was opposed to it at first, on account +of the shortness of the time; but Miss Pipkin +was an Amazon in an argument, and carried the day.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_25"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>It was after dark when the Hon. Mr. Lumpkin +arrived at Tiptop. The Lyceum Hall was already in +a blaze of brilliancy, and the revellers were rapidly +gathering to do honor to the man who had distinguished +himself by holding his tongue.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lumpkin, all unconscious of the honors that +were in store for him, cordially grasped the hand of +Squire Rogers, and entered the house. He drank +several cups of particularly strong tea, and found himself +fully refreshed from the fatigues of his journey.</p> + +<p>“The hall was lighted as you passed, was it not?” +asked the squire, thinking it time to broach the subject +of the complimentary ball.</p> + +<p>“The building on the hill?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—next to the meeting house.”</p> + +<p>“It was.”</p> + +<p>“Something grand there to-night; we must go up.”</p> + +<p>“Political?”</p> + +<p>“No, nothing of the kind; your friends in this +place, without distinction of party, propose to welcome +you to Tiptop in a grand reception ball.”</p> + +<p>“The deuse they do!”</p> + +<p>“Fact!” and the squire grinned in sympathy with +the Hon. Mr. Lumpkin.</p> + +<p>“But, Rogers, it’s silly.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[309]</span></p> + +<p>“Public men must humor the follies of their constituency.”</p> + +<p>“Not my constituents, thank my stars! I am not +holden to them for my office; so I shall do them the +honor to spend the evening with you, Rogers.”</p> + +<p>“But my dear Lumpkin, the affair was got up +wholly on your account.”</p> + +<p>“Infernally silly of them—decidedly flat.”</p> + +<p>“They will be disappointed;” and Squire Rogers +looked sad, for he happened to think at that moment +that he was a candidate for the legislature.</p> + +<p>“No matter.”</p> + +<p>“But the aristocracy—bah!—will be mortally offended +with me.”</p> + +<p>“The what?”</p> + +<p>“The affair was got up by our fashionables.”</p> + +<p>“So much the better. If they wish to make fools +of themselves, they shall not do it at my expense.”</p> + +<p>“But consider, my dear Lumpkin, what a terrible +disappointment it will be to them. They are even +now waiting your arrival. I have been appointed +gentleman usher, to conduct you to the hall, and do +the honors.”</p> + +<p>“Good, Rogers!” and Mr. Lumpkin, being a jolly, +good natured Congressman, laughed heartily, notwithstanding +the consternation of his legal friend, who +began to fear that his want of tact would insure the +victory, at the approaching election, to his rival.</p> + +<p>“But the ladies, Lumpkin.”</p> + +<p>This was a fortunate hit on the part of Squire +Rogers. Mr. Lumpkin was a bachelor, and like bachelors +in general, he loved the ladies to distraction, +while he kept them at a safe distance. The thought +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[310]</span>of being the centre of attraction, amid a galaxy of +bright eyes and blushing cheeks, was rather inviting; +but Mr. Lumpkin could not forgive the Tiptopites for +making fools of themselves at his expense.</p> + +<p>The honorable gentleman was a consistent man, and +having before decided not to go, it was against his +principles to change his mind. There was a villainous +rumor in circulation that Mr. Lumpkin, having unhappily +fallen asleep during the making of a certain +motion, had suddenly woke up and voted “yea,” in +opposition to his colleagues, and against the instructions +of his constituents.</p> + +<p>Having always been considered sound on the question +at issue, every body was surprised at his vote. +He did not discover his mistake until the following +day; but, being a consistent man, he defended his +course, and made the longest speech he was ever +known to make, on the folly of instructing public +men who are sent to Congress for the good of their +country. He would have lost his subsequent election, +only that a majority, admiring his manly independence, +saw fit to give him their suffrages.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lumpkin had said no, and it was an exceedingly +difficult thing for him to reverse his sentiments, +and say yes. But the ladies, being—as he eloquently +expressed it, in his speech on the necessity +of reducing the duty on Cashmere shawls, and making +it specific, instead of <i>ad valorem</i>—the bright +particular luminaries of a republican nation, seemed to +beckon him to the ball—to be recreant to his principle +of consistency.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Lumpkin, in the true spirit of our glorious +constitution, resolved to compromise the matter, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[311]</span>go. There was a codfish clique in Tiptop, and Mr. +Lumpkin considered it his duty to punish them. +After making some arrangements with his friend, +whose urgent remonstrances were all unheeded, he left +the house.</p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_21"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Lyceum Hall blazed with beauty and tallow candles. +All the <i>élite</i> of Tiptop were on tiptoe with expectation. +After a long and rather stormy discussion, it was decided +that Miss Pipkin should dance first with Mr. +Lumpkin.</p> + +<p>Eight o’clock came, and the distinguished gentleman +did not make his appearance. The less pretentious +portion of the party began to grow impatient. They +cared nothing at all about Mr. Lumpkin; they came +to have a good time, and were bound to enjoy themselves, +whether Mr. Lumpkin and his admirers did or +not.</p> + +<p>Joe Maple began to get a little mad. He came +with Lizzie Lee, had paid for his ticket, and—as he +expressed it to Mr. Adolphus Pipkin—he’d like to +know why they couldn’t go ahead without Mr. Lumpkin.</p> + +<p>“Hang me if I stay or pay for my ticket if they +don’t put her through pretty soon,” said he.</p> + +<p>“What are they waiting for?” asked a stranger by +his side.</p> + +<p>“For Mr. Stumpkins, or some sich name; but I +ain’t a-going to wait any longer. What do you say, +boys—shall we back out if they don’t go ahead?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[312]</span></p> + +<p>“Sartin; go to the managers, Joe; we’ll back you +up in any thing you say,” replied several.</p> + +<p>“They ought to go on,” suggested the stranger.</p> + +<p>“Tew be sure they had; so here goes for the +managers. They are so darn stuck up, they seem to +think we ain’t nobody; we’ll larn ’em better;” and +Joe Maple marched for the knot of gentlemen who had +charge of the arrangements, and who were wondering +why the distinguished guest of the evening did not +appear.</p> + +<p>At this moment Squire Rogers entered the hall. In +reply to the managers’ queries, he said Mr. Lumpkin +had left his house half an hour before, promising to +meet him at the festive scene.</p> + +<p>Joe Maple said the “boys” meant to have a time, +any how, and he insisted that the dance should be +immediately commenced, or the “boys” would make +tracks for “hum.”</p> + +<p>Joe Maple’s party were in a very decided majority, +and their appeal was irresistible. The band, who were +prepared to play “Hail Columbia” for the “grand +entrée” of Mr. Lumpkin, were directed to commence +a cotillon.</p> + +<p>The sets were nearly formed, when the stranger who +had before questioned him, requested Joe Maple to +introduce him to a partner.</p> + +<p>“Sartin,” said Joe, who was a good-natured, clever +fellow; “but I don’t know ye. What’s your name?”</p> + +<p>The stranger hesitated a moment, and then said it +was Smith.</p> + +<p>“You don’t say so! You ain’t the Smith that’s +just moved on to the Pelatiah Hopkins place?”</p> + +<p>“Just so,” replied Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[313]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, now, I am glad to see you;” and Joe +Maple cast about him for a suitable partner for the +new proprietor.</p> + +<p>Joe was always up to some mischief, and it seemed +as though the very demon of mischief ruled him when +he glanced at Miss Araminta Pipkin, who was impatiently +waiting the arrival of her distinguished partner.</p> + +<p>Now Mr. Smith was certainly not very prepossessing +in his external appearance. He looked very much +like a country shopkeeper dressed up in his Sunday +clothes, and Joe Maple was perfectly satisfied that +Miss Pipkin would never condescend to dance with +him. But there was a prospect of some sport, and +though he and the amiable leader of the Tiptop <i>ton</i> +were not on speaking terms, he determined to present +Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>“I want to introduce Mr. Smith to you,” said Joe, +mustering his most elegant expression. “He wants a +pardner.”</p> + +<p>Miss Pipkin addressed a languid sneer, first to Joe +Maple, and then to Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>“No, I thank ye,” replied she, briefly, turning +away her head from the suppliant at her feet.</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t ye better? This is Mr. Smith, that has +bought the Pelatiah Hopkins place.”</p> + +<p>“You have my answer; I dance with Mr. Lumpkin;” +and Miss Pipkin looked unutterably scornful at +the thought of descending from a member of Congress +even to the proprietor of the Hopkins place.</p> + +<p>“That is very plain speech,” suggested Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>“Short as pie-crust; she’s right down smart. But, +Mr. Smith, as you have bought that place, you shall +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[314]</span>dance with the poottiest gal in the hall—that’s Lizzie +Lee. She engaged to dance with me——”</p> + +<p>“I could not think of disappointing you,” interposed +Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>“I don’t stand on trifles. The fact is, Lizzie and I +understand one another pootty well.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith was introduced to Lizzie, who was all the +enamoured Mr. Maple had said she was.</p> + +<p>But the sets were all full save one, in which had +been reserved a place for Mr. Lumpkin and the sighing +Miss Pipkin, who fondly hoped to make a conquest +of the distinguished bachelor’s heart.</p> + +<p>This set was at the head of the hall, and of course +the three couples which now composed it were the +cream of the aristocracy. Mr. Lumpkin had not come +and Joe, who was all attention to the new owner of +the Hopkins place, directed Mr. Smith to lead his +partner to this vacant position.</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith did so. He was perfectly innocent of +any intention to offend, and smilingly bowed to his +pretty partner.</p> + +<p>The three couples were aghast at the coolness and +effrontery of Mr. Smith. Mr. Adolphus Pipkin felt outraged, +and stepped forward to remonstrate, suggesting +to the new lord of the Hopkins place that the head +of the hall had been reserved for Mr. Lumpkin and +the accomplished Miss Pipkin.</p> + +<p>“When <i>he</i> comes, <i>I</i> will go,” replied Mr. Smith, +quietly.</p> + +<p>“How rude!” exclaimed Miss Punkinton.</p> + +<p>“What horrible impoliteness!” added Miss Pilkinton.</p> + +<p>“Brought up in the woods,” suggested Miss Smythson.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[315]</span></p> + +<p>“I declare he smells of the cow yard,” sneered +Miss Punkinton.</p> + +<p>“Will you abandon your position?” asked Mr. +Pipkin, fiercely.</p> + +<p>“No sir,” replied Smith, calmly.</p> + +<p>“On with the dance!” shouted Joe Maple.</p> + +<p>And on it went, for the leader of the band, knowing +who his strongest friends were, started the music.</p> + +<p>“Sir, you are no gentleman,” continued Mr. Pipkin.</p> + +<p>“First couple, lead up to the right!” shouted the +caller.</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith and Lizzie, being the first couple, <i>led</i> up +to the right, and in doing so, had nearly borne the +enraged Mr. Pipkin under their feet.</p> + +<p>“<i>Balancez!</i>”</p> + +<p>“I demand satisfaction, sir.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Chassez</i> to the right!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith danced furiously; but the rest of the set, +horrified at the idea of dancing with such company as +the owner of the Hopkins place and Lizzie Lee, abandoned +their positions. Joe Maple instantly filled them +again, and things went on as merrily as a marriage +bell.</p> + +<p>Squire Rogers was repeatedly importuned for information +in regard to the Hon. Mr. Lumpkin, whose +consistency seemed quite as prominent as it had ever +been before. The squire assured them he would come—that +it was only ten o’clock, and genteel folks +never appeared till a late hour.</p> + +<p>The Hon. Mr. Lumpkin <i>did</i> come at last.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[316]</span></p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_IV_1"> + <i>CHAPTER IV.</i> +</h3> + +<p>But when he came, the proprietor of the Pelatiah +Hopkins place incontinently <i>vamosed</i>.</p> + +<p>“Rogers,” said Mr. Smith, “<i>Lumpkin is come</i>.”</p> + +<p>“High time,” replied Rogers.</p> + +<p>“Please announce the fact.”</p> + +<p>“There will be a tempest; hadn’t we better have +the smelling salts handy?”</p> + +<p>“Ay, cod-liver oil would do as well; there is a +smell of codfish in this vicinity.”</p> + +<p>“Ladies and gentlemen,” began Squire Rogers to +the little knot of uppercrusts that occupied the head +of the hall, “I have the honor of informing you that +the Hon. Mr. Lumpkin has come.”</p> + +<p>This announcement produced a very decided sensation. +Miss Araminta Pipkin heaved a deep sigh, and +almost fainted in anticipation of the presentation.</p> + +<p>“Where is he?” asked Mr. Adolphus Pipkin, +glancing eagerly around the room.</p> + +<p>“The illustrious gentleman is close at hand.”</p> + +<p>“Band, play the grand march.”</p> + +<p>The band struck up “Hail Columbia.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith, exhibiting a most wonderful command +of himself, while every body else was excited by the +event about to transpire, stood by the side of Lizzie +Lee, engaged in a familiar conversation. Joe Maple, +in view of the very marked attentions of Mr. Smith +to his intended, had begun to grow a little jealous, +and half regretted that he had been so polite to the +owner of the Hopkins place.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[317]</span></p> + +<p>“Mr. Lumpkin,” said Rogers, breaking in upon the +pleasant conference, “the company wait your presence.”</p> + +<p>“Hey, squire! this is Mr. Smith,” said Maple.</p> + +<p>“The Hon. Mr. Lumpkin,” continued Rogers.</p> + +<p>“You will pardon the little trick I have played +upon you,” said Mr. Smith; “my name is Lumpkin, +M. C.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t say so!” exclaimed Joe Maple.</p> + +<p>“Just so.”</p> + +<p>“And I’ve been talking to you just as though you +was a common man.”</p> + +<p>“So I am.”</p> + +<p>“Ain’t you one of them ’ere Congress fellers?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, but one of the people; and, between +you and I and the barn, as we say out west, I am +no friend of such folks as these over here;” and Mr. +Lumpkin pointed significantly to the <i>élite</i> of Tiptop.</p> + +<p>“You are a brick, squire!” and Joe hawhawed +with right good will; “but I suppose we shan’t see +you again to-night, if you are going over there?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; Miss Lee, I claim your hand for the next +dance, according to your promise.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be almost afraid to dance with you now,” +simpered Lizzie.</p> + +<p>“Hush, Liz! talk up to him,” whispered Joe; “a +Congress chap ain’t any better than any body else.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Lumpkin, your admirers will become impatient,” +suggested Squire Rogers, with an ironical smile.</p> + +<p>“Excuse me for a few moments, Miss Lee;” and +Mr. Lumpkin, taking the arm of the squire, walked +towards the head of the hall.</p> + +<p>Joe Maple, whose keen relish for “some sport” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[318]</span>did not permit him to remain in the background, followed +in their wake.</p> + +<p>“Miss Pipkin, the Hon. Mr. Lumpkin,” said Squire +Rogers.</p> + +<p>The amiable lady raised her eyes, which had been +fixed in maidenly coyness upon the floor, and beheld +the abominable Mr. Smith, the abhorred owner of the +Pelatiah Hopkins place!</p> + +<p>“Why—I—yes—I declare—I have met—you +before, this evening,” stammered the leader of the +female <i>ton</i>.</p> + +<p>“Should rather think you had!” roared Joe Maple, +who has since declared that he thought “he should +ha’ died a larfin’.”</p> + +<p>“We have; I had the honor of being refused the +pleasure of your hand at the first dance,” said Mr. +Lumpkin, with a full display of congressional dignity.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Pipkin, the Hon. Mr. Lumpkin, M. C., from +the west,” continued Squire Rogers, who, notwithstanding +he felt a little nervous on account of the seat in +the legislature, was in very tolerable spirits, and +heartily enjoyed the discomfiture of the “codfish” +party.</p> + +<p>“Happy to know you, Mr. Pipkin. You demanded +satisfaction of me in the early part of the evening; +should be happy to afford it.”</p> + +<p>“You will pardon me, sir; there was some mistake; +I would not of course have spoken in that manner to +a member of Congress.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Lumpkin, not being above the infirmities of +human nature, sneered rather rudely at the Tiptop +exquisite, as much as to say, “You ought to treat +every body well, whether they are public or private +individuals.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[319]</span></p> + +<p>The master of ceremonies discharged the duties of +his office with punctilious formality. It seemed to the +sufferers that he was unnecessarily minute in his presentation +ceremonial, permitting the distinguished +gentleman to make a home thrust at each one of the +persons who had been so rude to Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>The introductions were happily concluded, and a +more chopfallen set than the <i>élite</i> of Tiptop never +gathered together in the same hall.</p> + +<p>Miss Pipkin was in an agony. She had actually +turned up her nose to a member of Congress. Of +course she could no longer hope to make a conquest +of his heart; the vision of being a distinguished lady +melted quite away.</p> + +<p>But then “it is an ill wind that blows no one any +good.” If Miss Pipkin could not have a member of +Congress, she at least had the consolation of saying +that she had refused the hand of the Hon. Mr. Lumpkin, +which, to a lady of her peculiar turn of mind, was +an immense satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lumpkin returned to the side of Lizzie Lee, +who, maugre her coyness, was tolerably sociable. Joe +Maple, from the abundance of his good nature, vowed +he might dance with her just as many times as he +pleased.</p> + +<p>About eleven o’clock, Miss Pipkin suggested to her +brother that the delicate state of her health would not +permit her to endure the excitement of the dance any +longer, and when the leader of the <i>ton</i> left, the followers +went after her.</p> + +<p>But the common folks “staid it out,” and Mr. +Lumpkin confessed that he enjoyed the ball very much +indeed; for, true to his duty as a public man, it had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[320]</span>enabled him to administer a suitable reproof to the +pretensions of the Tiptopites.</p> + +<p>Joe Maple and Lizzie Lee—since Mrs. Maple—have +not yet forgotten the part they acted, and perhaps +they may be pardoned for a slight display of +vanity, as they relate the particulars of <i>The Grand +Reception Ball</i>.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[321]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="MARRYING_A_BEGGAR"> + MARRYING A BEGGAR. + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3><i>CHAPTER I.</i></h3> + +<p class='drop-initial d03'>“So much for bringing poor relations into the +house! I really believe that Charles has fallen +in love with the girl!” exclaimed Mrs. Mason to her +husband, a merchant in moderate circumstances in the +city of Boston.</p> + +<p>“Well, suppose he has; she is a good girl, is she +not?” quickly responded the merchant.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know but that she is good enough; but +she is a pauper!”</p> + +<p>“Not exactly a pauper, Mrs. Mason.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t we take her into the family to keep her +from starving?”</p> + +<p>“I did not so understand it. You needed a young +woman to assist you in sewing, and employed her at +half the usual wages.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and isn’t she a pauper for all that?”</p> + +<p>“Gently, Mrs. Mason: you forget that she is my +sister’s daughter,” said the merchant, a little sternly.</p> + +<p>“What if she is? She is a penniless girl for all +that. A pretty match for <i>our</i> son!”</p> + +<p>“And why not for our son? I am not a <i>millionnaire</i>. +If the times don’t come easier than they have +been, I shall fail before the year is out.”</p> + +<p>“So much the more reason why Charles should look +out for himself.”</p> + +<p>“If he loves my niece, I sincerely hope he will +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[322]</span>marry her, for I believe she is one of the best girls +in the world; certainly she is vastly superior to the +silly, affected, mincing, novel-reading misses of fashionable +society. I commend his taste and his judgment.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Mason, I <i>am</i> surprised!”</p> + +<p>“Not the least occasion to be surprised.”</p> + +<p>“Let me tell you, Mr. Mason, that I never will +consent to see Charles throw himself away on a +pauper. If you haven’t the spirit to prevent so disgraceful +a match, I shall send the girl away.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you do it, madam,” said Mr. Mason, in a +firm, decided tone.</p> + +<p>“I <i>shall</i> do it!” replied the lady, waxing warm +at the obstinacy of her husband, who in trivial matters, +was in the habit of letting her have her own +way.</p> + +<p>“Better not,” quietly responded the gentleman.</p> + +<p>“The minx put on such airs and smirked so, that +I really believe she meant to catch him.”</p> + +<p>“What, Grace? Impossible! She is a little gentle, +quiet thing, and I am sure the idea of a flirtation +never entered her simple head.”</p> + +<p>“Humph!” sneered the lady. “I know better. +And now that he is really making love to her, the provoking +jade seems to look upon it as a matter of course; +thinks it just as much a proper thing that she should +be the wife of our Charles, as though she had been +born a princess!”</p> + +<p>“Poor thing! I suppose she is human, and actually +loves the boy!”</p> + +<p>“Loves him or not, I’ll make an end of it.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be rash, Mrs. Mason,” replied the husband, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[323]</span>twirling in his fingers a buff envelope, marked “Telegraph.”</p> + +<p>“What have you got there?”</p> + +<p>“I had almost forgot to mention that brother Joseph +had arrived in New York, and telegraphs that he shall +be here to-night by the New Haven train.”</p> + +<p>“Just like you! Never tell of a thing till the last +moment!” said the lady, petulantly.</p> + +<p>“I received the despatch only two hours ago.”</p> + +<p>“Here is another kettle of fish,” continued the lady, +musing. “That everlasting niece of yours is in the +way again.”</p> + +<p>“I hope the poor girl has no more sins to answer +for.”</p> + +<p>“Where do you suppose your brother Joseph will +leave his property?”</p> + +<p>“I have not the remotest idea.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you suppose that angelic niece of yours will +wheedle him out of a part of it?”</p> + +<p>“I hope so.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t want he should leave it all in your +family, then?” sneered the lady.</p> + +<p>“No, I hope he will do justly.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I could get her out of the way before +he comes.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t attempt it, Mrs. Mason,” said the merchant, +with very decided emphasis.</p> + +<p>“If she were only out of the way, Henrietta would +come in for the whole,” added the lady, as she hurried +out of the room to make arrangements for the reception +of uncle Joseph.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[324]</span></p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_II_26"> + <i>CHAPTER II.</i> +</h3> + +<p>Uncle Joseph was a Calcutta merchant, in which +capacity he had accumulated an immense fortune. Being +a bachelor, the probable disposition of his property +became a question of considerable interest among +his relations.</p> + +<p>The family of Mr. Mason, the merchant introduced +in the last chapter, included but two children, a son +and a daughter.</p> + +<p>Grace was the only daughter of a sister, recently +deceased, who had been for many years a widow.</p> + +<p>It was supposed that uncle Joseph would make one +of his nieces his heiress. This was the old fellow’s +whim, and no one could gainsay the whim of a bachelor. +From some indications of preference which he +had bestowed upon Henrietta in her childhood, it was +generally believed that she would prove to be the +fortunate one.</p> + +<p>Henrietta had been educated to be a lady. Her +delicate fingers were never soiled by rude collision +with pots and kettles, and she had been taught to +believe that it was delicate sensibility to be afraid of +a spider or a bullfrog. She played the piano with +passable skill, and lingered away half her time at full +length on the sofa, poring over the contents of a +novel.</p> + +<p>Such was the prospective heiress of uncle Joseph’s +large fortune. Her father was far from approving the +education she had received, and had used all the influence +he possessed, short of quarreling, to have these +defects remedied.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[325]</span></p> + +<p>Uncle Joseph came, and was welcomed as became +the dignity of one who had a fortune to bestow.</p> + +<p>Henrietta thought he was a “dear love” of a man, +and she wondered that the ladies ever let him remain +a bachelor.</p> + +<p>Grace, by the contrivance of Mrs. Mason, was not +present when her uncle arrived; but Mr. Mason, understanding +the trick, sought her in person, and introduced +her to the man of money.</p> + +<p>The poor girl was too modest and retiring to force +herself upon the notice of uncle Joseph, who was too +deeply absorbed by the unremitting attentions of Henrietta +to perceive her situation, or discover the mental +capacity in which she acted.</p> + +<p>At tea, uncle Joseph complained of being ill, and +said that he had not been well since he landed on the +previous day.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mason and her daughter were all sympathy. +The ailing bachelor was conducted to his apartment, +and herb teas and jugs of hot water were put in +requisition. Henrietta volunteered to sit all night by +his bedside and minister to his wants; but the sick +man did not deem it necessary.</p> + +<p>During all this confusion, Grace was not to be +seen. She was not permitted to assist in the preparations +for the sick man’s comfort; everything must be +done by Henrietta’s own hand.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding the kind attentions lavished upon +uncle Joseph, there was no improvement in his condition; +but on the contrary, he rapidly grew worse, +and at midnight the physician was sent for. Henrietta +had not left the bedside for a moment. She was +the most devoted creature in the world, and the bachelor +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[326]</span>could not but contrast her devotion with the +utter neglect of Grace, who had not once entered his +room, even to inquire how he did. Henrietta’s prospects +were decidedly brilliant.</p> + +<p>The physician came, and after feeling the pulse of +the sufferer, inquired where he resided when at home.</p> + +<p>Uncle Joseph replied that he had no home—had +just come from Calcutta.</p> + +<p>“I see,” said the physician. “Was there any +sickness on board the ship?”</p> + +<p>“There was. I came by the overland route to +Liverpool, thence by a New York liner. There was +a steerage full of emigrants on board, among whom the +fever raged fearfully.”</p> + +<p>“Just so,” returned the physician, “and you have +got the ship fever.”</p> + +<p>“The ship fever!” exclaimed Henrietta, rushing +out of the room.</p> + +<p>The sick man turned, and witnessed her abrupt +departure. With a sigh, such as can only be wrung +from a bachelor conscious of his loneliness, he drew +the bedclothes closely around him, and apparently +abandoned himself to the fate which the dreadful disease +seemed to foreshadow.</p> + +<p>The physician made up his prescription and retired. +No one was left with uncle Joseph but his brother.</p> + +<p>“I am deserted, brother,” said the sick man.</p> + +<p>“No, brother, I am here.”</p> + +<p>“But there is no hand of woman here; well, it is +a dreadful disease,” and the sufferer sighed again.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mason went down to the sitting room, whither +his wife and daughter had fled.</p> + +<p>“How is this, wife? Is Joseph to be abandoned +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[327]</span>now that he most needs attention?” asked he of Mrs. +Mason.</p> + +<p>“You don’t think we are going to stay in the same +room with the ship fever?” replied Mrs. Mason.</p> + +<p>“You may as well be in the room as in the +house.”</p> + +<p>“We must leave the house immediately. Why did +he not go to the hospital? It was not very considerate +of him to bring the ship fever into the family. +He might have known that he had it.”</p> + +<p>“Heaven forgive your heartlessness! But is my +brother to die with no one to care for him?” exclaimed +Mr. Mason, indignantly.</p> + +<p>“You must hire a nurse.”</p> + +<p>“And you will desert him?”</p> + +<p>“We can’t stay where the ship fever is.”</p> + +<p>“No, papa, it would be suicidal,” added Henrietta. +“His fortune would do us no good if we caught the +fever.”</p> + +<p>“Go, then! but there is still one in the house who +has a heart,” replied Mr. Mason, as he left the room +to seek the apartment of Grace.</p> + +<p>Grace was ready in a moment to attend her uncle +to the sick room, where, regardless of the danger of +contagion, she laved the burning brow of the sufferer, +and did all that an angel hand could do to render +him comfortable.</p> + +<p>Early in the morning, Mrs. Mason and her daughter +departed for the residence of a friend in the country.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[328]</span></p> + + +<h3 id="CHAPTER_III_22"> + <i>CHAPTER III.</i> +</h3> + +<p>For several weeks Grace, with such assistance as +Mr. Mason and Charles could give, nursed the invalid +with the most untiring devotion. All her time was +spent by his bedside. She was all gentleness and +sympathy, bearing patiently with his petulance and ill +humor, and never betraying the slightest appearance +of anger when he scolded and even swore at her.</p> + +<p>The fever turned, and he began to mend. He was +now out of danger, and rapidly advancing to complete +restoration.</p> + +<p>The physician commended the skill and devotion +of his nurse, assuring him that he owed his life to +her.</p> + +<p>But the devotion of the poor girl cost her dearly; +for scarcely had uncle Joseph recovered before she was +taken down with the fever, and for weeks languished +on the very verge of the grave.</p> + +<p>Yet there was no female hand to lave her brow +save that of a hired nurse. Charles Mason loved her +as he did his own existence, and day and night he +watched over her with a constancy and a devotion +worthy the loving heart of the gentler sex.</p> + +<p>Uncle Joseph, too, was an anxious watcher round +her bed. Though he was a bachelor, and had spent +the greater part of his life in India, away from the +gentle influences of female society, he showed an +aptness in the sick room that would have done honor +to a Benedict.</p> + +<p>To the intense relief of her devoted friend, Grace +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[329]</span>recovered. The disease was now banished from the +house, and Mrs. Mason and Henrietta ventured to +return.</p> + +<p>“I trust you have had a pleasant visit, madam,” +said uncle Joseph, coldly.</p> + +<p>“Pleasant! nay, far from it. You do us injustice; +we were perfectly miserable on account of your dangerous +illness.”</p> + +<p>“Humph!” said uncle Joseph, with a sneer.</p> + +<p>The love between Charles and Grace, strengthened +by the scenes of suffering through which they had +passed, was now an unalterable sentiment. Of course, +uncle Joseph had not witnessed their mutual devotion +to him in his illness, without suspecting the existence +of some strong bond of union between them. And +the young man’s untiring attention to her in her own +sickness had confirmed the opinion.</p> + +<p>Seeking a favorable opportunity, he conversed with +Charles upon the subject, who readily admitted his +affection. The bachelor recommended an immediate +marriage.</p> + +<p>The step was not, of course, ungrateful to the feelings +of the lover. And the desire to redeem Grace +from the life of drudgery to which she was reduced +by the heartlessness of his mother, seemed to demand +their immediate union.</p> + +<p>The young man’s intentions were soon noised +through the family. Mrs. Mason renewed the opposition +she had before made, and even went so far as +to threaten that, if she could not break up the match, +she would imbitter the lives of the parties.</p> + +<p>Uncle Joseph remonstrated.</p> + +<p>“May I ask, madam, what objection you can possibly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[330]</span>have to the marriage?” said he, with considerable +sternness in his manner.</p> + +<p>“What objection! why, the girl is a beggar; I +have employed her in my family to keep her out of +the almshouse, which, I think, is objection enough,” +replied Mrs. Mason, disliking the interference of uncle +Joseph.</p> + +<p>“Your son, I think, is not wealthy, so that he need +not <i>demand</i> a rich wife.”</p> + +<p>“He need not marry a beggar, though.”</p> + +<p>“She is worthy a prince, beggar though she is.”</p> + +<p>“O, very likely,” sneered the lady.</p> + +<p>“I owe my life to her, and I can never cease to +be grateful to her. When <i>others</i> forsook me, <i>she</i> was +constant,” replied uncle Joseph, pointedly.</p> + +<p>“She knew you were rich,” said Mrs. Mason, sarcastically.</p> + +<p>“So did you and your amiable daughter. You +were like angels round my pillow till the doctor said +‘ship fever,’ when you fled like two frightened sheep.”</p> + +<p>The lady looked as black as a thunder cloud.</p> + +<p>“I trust you will withdraw your objections to this +marriage, Mrs. Mason. You perceive that Charles is +resolute, and will have his own way about it,” continued +uncle Joseph, in a more pliable tone.</p> + +<p>“His <i>own</i> way! All this for bad advising! I cannot +prevent it, perhaps; but I will never consent to +it. No! a son of mine shall never have my consent +to marry a beggar girl.”</p> + +<p>“Madam, she is no longer a beggar. She is the +heiress of all my fortune,” said uncle Joseph, with +sudden energy.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mason’s brow contracted.</p> + +<p>“And Henrietta?” said she.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[331]</span></p> + +<p>“Never touches a penny! She deserted me when I +most needed a friend,” replied the bachelor, vehemently. +“If I had ten thousand fortunes, they would +be but a poor return for all that Grace has done for +me. I make over fifty thousand dollars to the newly-married +couple as soon as the knot is tied; the residue +at my decease.”</p> + +<p>The marriage took place soon after. The ceremony +was performed at the house of Mr. Mason, in spite +of the opposition of his wife; for when the merchant +said it should be so, he had the firmness to carry his +point.</p> + +<p>The newly-married couple took up their residence +in a beautiful house, purchased for them by uncle +Joseph, who consented to make his home with them.</p> + +<p>Henrietta is now five-and-thirty years of age, and +an “old maid.” Mrs. Mason still continues to be a +termagant, though her husband maintains his integrity +with firmness and decision. She has never forgiven +uncle Joseph for making Grace the heiress, and probably +never will. But the worthy bachelor never +ceases to rejoice over the disposition he has made of +his property, and probably <i>he</i> never will.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class='ads'> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_332"></a><a id="Page_333"></a>[333]</span></p> + +<p class='center fs150 bold'> OLIVER OPTIC’S BOOKS.</p> + +<p class='center mt1'> SOLD IN SETS OR SEPARATE VOLUMES. EACH SET IN A NEAT + BOX WITH ILLUMINATED LABELS. + </p> +</div> + + +<p class='series'>ARMY AND NAVY STORIES.</p> + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p>A Library for Young and Old, in six volumes. 16mo. +Illustrated. Per volume </p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'>$1.50</td> +</tr> +</table> +</blockquote> + +<ul> + <li>The Soldier Boy.</li> + <li>The Sailor Boy.</li> + <li>The Young Lieutenant.</li> + <li>The Yankee Middy.</li> + <li>Fighting Joe.</li> + <li>Brave Old Salt.</li> +</ul> + + +<p class='series' id="FAMOUS_BOAT-CLUB_SERIES"> + FAMOUS “BOAT-CLUB” SERIES. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p>A Library for Young People. Handsomely illustrated. +Six volumes, in neat box. Per volume</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'>1.25</td> +</tr></table> +</blockquote> + +<ul> + <li>The Boat Club; or, The Bunkers of Rippleton.</li> + <li>All Aboard; or, Life on the Lake.</li> + <li>Now or Never; or, The Adventures of Bobby Bright.</li> + <li>Try Again; or, the Trials and Triumphs of Harry West.</li> + <li>Poor and Proud; or, The Fortunes of Katy Redburn.</li> + <li>Little by Little; or, The Cruise of the Flyaway.</li> +</ul> + + +<p class='series' id="THE_LAKE-SHORE_SERIES"> + THE LAKE-SHORE SERIES. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p>Six volumes. Illustrated. In neat box. Per volume</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'>1.25</td> +</tr></table> +</blockquote> + +<ul> + <li>Through by Daylight; or, The Young Engineer of the Lake Shore Railroad.</li> + <li>Lightning Express; or, The Rival Academies.</li> + <li>On Time; or, The Young Captain of the Ucayga Steamer.</li> + <li>Switch Off; or, The War of the Students.</li> + <li>Break Up; or, The Young Peacemakers.</li> + <li>Bear and Forbear; or, The Young Skipper of Lake Ucayga.</li> +</ul> + + +<p class='series' id="THE_SOLDIER-BOY_SERIES"> + THE SOLDIER-BOY SERIES. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p>Three volumes, in neat box. Illustrated. Per volume</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'> 1.50</td> +</tr></table> +</blockquote> + +<ul> + <li>The Soldier Boy; or, Tom Somers in the Army.</li> + <li>The Young Lieutenant; or, The Adventures of an Army Officer.</li> + <li>Fighting Joe; or, The Fortunes of a Staff Officer.</li> +</ul> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">[334]</span></p> + + +<p class='series' id="THE_SAILOR-BOY_SERIES"> + THE SAILOR-BOY SERIES. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p>Three volumes, in neat box. Illustrated. Per volume</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'>1.50</td> +</tr></table> +</blockquote> + +<ul> + <li>The Sailor Boy; or, Jack Somers in the Navy.</li> + <li>The Yankee Middy; or, Adventures of a Naval Officer.</li> + <li>Brave Old Salt; or, Life on the Quarter-Deck.</li> +</ul> + + +<p class='series' id="THE_STARRY-FLAG_SERIES"> + THE STARRY-FLAG SERIES. +</p> + + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p> + Six volumes. Illustrated. Per volume</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'>1.25 +</td> +</tr></table> +</blockquote> + +<ul> + <li>The Starry Flag; or, The Young Fisherman of Cape Ann.</li> + <li>Breaking Away; or, The Fortunes of a Student.</li> + <li>Seek and Find; or, The Adventures of a Smart Boy.</li> + <li>Freaks of Fortune; or, Half Round the World.</li> + <li>Make or Break; or, The Rich Man’s Daughter.</li> + <li>Down the River; or, Buck Bradford and the Tyrants.</li> +</ul> + + +<p class='series' id="THE_WAY_OF_THE_WORLD"> + THE WAY OF THE WORLD. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p> + By <span class="smcap">William T. Adams</span> (Oliver Optic) 12mo</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'>1.50</td> +</tr> +</table> +</blockquote> + + +<p class='series' id="WOODVILLE_STORIES"> + WOODVILLE STORIES. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p>Uniform with “Library for Young People.” Six volumes. +Illustrated. 16mo. Per volume</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'>1.25</td> +</tr></table> +</blockquote> + +<ul> + <li>Rich and Humble; or The Mission of Bertha Grant.</li> + <li>In School and Out; or, The Conquest of Richard Grant.</li> + <li>Watch and Wait; or, The Young Fugitives.</li> + <li>Work and Win; or, Noddy Newman on a Cruise.</li> + <li>Hope and Have; or, Fanny Grant among the Indians.</li> + <li>Haste and Waste; or, The Young Pilot of Lake Champlain.</li> +</ul> + + +<p class='series' id="YACHT-CLUB_SERIES"> + YACHT-CLUB SERIES. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p>Uniform with the ever popular “Boat-Club” Series. +Completed in six volumes. Illustrated. 16mo. Per +volume</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'>1.50</td> +</tr></table> +</blockquote> + +<ul> + <li>Little Bobtail; or, The Wreck of the Penobscot.</li> + <li>The Yacht Club; or, The Young Boat-Builders.</li> + <li>Money-Maker; or, The Victory of the Basilisk.</li> + <li>The Coming Wave; or, The Treasure of High Rock.</li> + <li>The Dorcas Club; or, Our Girls Afloat.</li> + <li>Ocean Born; or, The Cruise of the Clubs.</li> +</ul> + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[335]</span></p> + + +<p class='series' id="THE_HOUSEHOLD_LIBRARY"> + THE HOUSEHOLD LIBRARY. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p>Three volumes. Illustrated. Per volume</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'>1.50</td> +</tr></table> +</blockquote> + +<ul> + <li>Living Too Fast.</li> + <li>In Doors and Out.</li> + <li>The Way of the World.</li> +</ul> + + +<p class='series' id="THE_ONWARD_AND_UPWARD_SERIES"> + THE ONWARD AND UPWARD SERIES. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p>Complete in six volumes. Illustrated. In neat box. +Per volume</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'>1.25</td> +</tr></table> +</blockquote> + +<ul> + <li>Field and Forest; or, The Fortunes of a Farmer.</li> + <li>Plane and Plank; or, The Mishaps of a Mechanic.</li> + <li>Desk and Debit; or, The Catastrophes of a Clerk.</li> + <li>Cringle and Cross-Tree; or, The Sea Swashes of a Sailor.</li> + <li>Bivouac and Battle; or, The Struggles of a Soldier.</li> + <li>Sea and Shore; or, The Tramps of a Traveller.</li> +</ul> + + +<p class='series' id="YOUNG_AMERICA_ABROAD_SERIES"> + YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD SERIES. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p>A library of Travel and Adventure in Foreign Lands. +Illustrated by Nast, Stevens, Perkins, and others. +Per volume. 16mo</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'>1.50</td> +</tr></table> +</blockquote> + +<p class='pl3'>FIRST SERIES.</p> + +<ul> + <li>Outward Bound; or, Young America Afloat.</li> + <li>Shamrock and Thistle; or, Young America in Ireland and Scotland.</li> + <li>Red Cross; or, Young America in England and Wales.</li> + <li>Dikes and Ditches; or, Young America in Holland and Belgium.</li> + <li>Palace and Cottage; or, Young America in France and Switzerland.</li> + <li>Down the Rhine; or, Young America in Germany.</li> +</ul> + +<p class='pl3'>SECOND SERIES.</p> + +<ul> + <li>Up the Baltic; or, Young America in Norway, Sweden, and Denmark.</li> + <li>Northern Lands; or, Young America in Russia and Prussia.</li> + <li>Cross and Crescent; or, Young America in Turkey and Greece.</li> + <li>Sunny Shores; or, Young America in Italy and Austria.</li> + <li>Vine and Olive; or, Young America in Spain and Portugal.</li> + <li>Isles of the Sea; or, Young America Homeward Bound.</li> +</ul> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[336]</span></p> + + +<p class='series' id="RIVERDALE_STORIES"> + RIVERDALE STORIES. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p>Twelve volumes. A new edition. Profusely illustrated +from new designs by Billings. Illuminated covers. +Per set</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'> 2.00</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p>Same. Cloth (in neat box). Per set</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'>3.60</td> +</tr></table> +</blockquote> + +<ul> + <li>Little Merchant.</li> + <li>Young Voyagers.</li> + <li>Robinson Crusoe, jun.</li> + <li>Dolly and I.</li> + <li>Uncle Ben.</li> + <li>Birthday Party.</li> + <li>Proud and Lazy.</li> + <li>Careless Kate.</li> + <li>Christmas Gift.</li> + <li>The Picnic Party.</li> + <li>The Gold Thimble.</li> + <li>The Do-Somethings.</li> +</ul> + + +<p class='series' id="RIVERDALE_STORY_BOOKS"> + RIVERDALE STORY BOOKS. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p>Six volumes, in neat box. Cloth. Per volume</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'>.30</td> +</tr></table> +</blockquote> + +<ul> + <li>Little Merchant.</li> + <li>Young Voyagers.</li> + <li>Dolly and I.</li> + <li>Proud and Lazy.</li> + <li>Careless Kate.</li> + <li>Robinson Crusoe, jun.</li> +</ul> + + +<p class='series' id="FLORA_LEE_STORY_BOOKS"> + FLORA LEE STORY BOOKS. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p>Six volumes, in neat box. Cloth. Per volume</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'>.30</td> +</tr></table> +</blockquote> + +<ul> + <li>Christmas Gift.</li> + <li>Uncle Ben.</li> + <li>Birthday Party.</li> + <li>The Picnic Party.</li> + <li>The Gold Thimble.</li> + <li>The Do-Somethings.</li> +</ul> + + +<p class='series' id="THE_GREAT_WESTERN_SERIES"> + THE GREAT WESTERN SERIES. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p>Six volumes. Illustrated. Per volume</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'>1.50</td> +</tr></table> +</blockquote> + +<ul> + <li>Going West; or, The Perils of a Poor Boy.</li> + <li>Out West; or, Roughing it on the Great Lakes.</li> + <li>Lake Breezes; or, The Cruise of the Sylvania.</li> + <li>Going South; or, Yachting on the Atlantic Coast.</li> + <li>Down South; or, Yacht Adventures in Florida.</li> + <li>Up the River; or, Yachting on the Mississippi.</li> +</ul> + + +<p class='series' id="THE_BOAT-BUILDER_SERIES"> + THE BOAT-BUILDER SERIES. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td class='tdl vat'> +<p>Six volumes. Illustrated. Per volume</p> +</td> +<td class='tdr pl1 vab'>1.25</td> +</tr></table> +</blockquote> + +<ul> + <li>All Adrift; or, the Goldwing Club.</li> + <li>Snug Harbor; or, the Young Mechanics.</li> + <li>Square and Compasses; or, Building the House.</li> + <li>Stem to Stern; or, Building the Boat.</li> + <li>All Taut; or, Rigging the Boat.</li> + <li>Ready About; or, Sailing the Boat.</li> +</ul> + + +<p class='series' id="LEE_AND_SHEPARD_PUBLISHERS_BOSTON_1"> + LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS, BOSTON. +</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter transnote"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes"> + Transcriber’s Notes + </h2> + + +<ul> +<li>Obvious typographic errors silently corrected.</li> + +<li>Archaic spelling kept as in the original.</li> + +<li>Illustrations relocated close to relevant material.</li> +</ul> + +</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78710 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/78710-h/images/cover.jpg b/78710-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..65b0c55 --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_000.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_000.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..583cd76 --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_000.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_022.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_022.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d2defe4 --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_022.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_031.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_031.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..26ca084 --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_031.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_041.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_041.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2f95b1b --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_041.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_056.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_056.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..38f19b8 --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_056.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_075.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_075.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a5313a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_075.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_086.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_086.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..58b8375 --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_086.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_097.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_097.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e13f6b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_097.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_108.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_108.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6780697 --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_108.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_132.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_132.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6118da8 --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_132.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_148.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_148.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..957618c --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_148.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_183.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_183.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a91f4ed --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_183.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_193.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_193.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..93ebf1e --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_193.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_215.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_215.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..81590e1 --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_215.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_226.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_226.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ad852a --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_226.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_232.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_232.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..72a1e98 --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_232.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_240.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_240.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d6681c --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_240.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_253.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_253.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..baea9cf --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_253.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_264.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_264.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f55fdae --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_264.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_285.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_285.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7fbe158 --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_285.jpg diff --git a/78710-h/images/i_295.jpg b/78710-h/images/i_295.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..42a2e00 --- /dev/null +++ b/78710-h/images/i_295.jpg |
