IT S S L IMtE  S'  IINDO, 0 A
AND OTIIER PAIPERS.












MISS AL~II~Ad sI~IEt~NS,'11                           i i~i~,,,~
i~~il~: iii;.a~~~i ~Iil
"" ~   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I:4        1 i~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




MISS SLIM3IENS' WINDOW,
AND OTHER PAPERS.
BY nMRS. MARIt  PEABODY.
Bfitb.umorous 3IIustraltfno    from  roilfn s X1j 3. g. r- <cbar}.
NEW YORK:
DERBY & JACKSON, 119 NASSAU STREET,
1859.




Entered aceording it Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by
DERBY & JACKSON,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southen
District of New York.
W. 11t. Tlsos, Stereotyper.                        Gl Eo. RUSSEI,L & CO., Printers.




CONTENTS.
PAGE
MISS SLIMIMIENS'S WINDOW,.. 9
THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA,.. 161
LUCY IN THE CITY,. 229
MR FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY,...  289








MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.
TW   HEN  Miss Slimmens first hung out her
sign as.Fashionable Milliner, it was
adorned with a bonnet after the following pattern:
IONABL     ILLINERY
The patterns inside of the shop-window have
changed very frequently since then; but the
1*                g9




10         MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
sign remains as it was, except that its pristine
glory is nearly obliterated by the wear and tear
of the weather. But, if the bright yellow of the
bonnet is faded, and its sky-blue bows are
scarcely discerriible, so have the roses faded that
once bloomed on the cheeks of Miss Slimmens;
and she has been compelled, for the last ten years
at least, to resort to "artificials."  She bleaches
and trims to perfection-herself, as well as her
bonnets; despite which, some of her neighbors
have been heard to insinuate that the smell of
brimstone about her premises did not proceed
entirely from the covered barrel which sets in
the back yard, and in which there are usually
two or three wrecks of Leghorn hanging, as
slimp and melancholy as the prospects of Miss
Slimmens herself.




CHAPTER I.
YOU CAN T CATCH OLD BIRDS VITH CHAFF.
THERE'S  Stebbins's house been shut up
three days, and not a sign of life about it.
I wonder where he's sent the children to? I sVppose to their grandmother's. Poor little things!
it's cruel to think of their being orphans, and no
telling what kind of a stepmother they'll get to
knock'em and beat'em around, and schinch'em in
clothes and vittals. However, maybe their prospects is not so bad as they might be; perh]ps
they're soon agoing to have somebody to look
after'em who never had the name of taking the
advantage of anybody, let alone stepchildren.
Do you know why Stebbins had his house
painted straw color, instid of white, and that
sweet little portcullis put over the front door?
If you don't, somebody does. It was only the
day before he had the men to work, he says to




12        MISS SLIMMENS'S WIMOW.
me, "Alvira " —Stebbins has called me by my
given name ever since his wife died-" supposing
you was going to have a house painted, what
color would you prefer?" "La, now!" said I,
" people's tastes differ; and, since the house i;n't
mine, and nobody has ever said it was going to
be mine, what do you care what color I like
best?''" Well," said he, "I knew you was con-'idered the tastiest person in the village, used to
all sorts of pretty colors in ribbons and trimmin's,
and, as I don't purfess to have much knowledge
of such things myself, I thought I'd ask you."
Wasn't that a delicate way, now, of managing
the matter, and letting the person most interested
know that he'd like her opinion? I declare, my
respect for Stebbins riz considerably! though I'd
always thought well of him as a good man to his
family, and a stiddy, industrious person, not badlooking, either, though rather old for a girl in
her twenties. Let's see? he must,be full forty
year old; and that would be fourteen years difference. So then I told him I was sick of these
everlasting white houses, and that I thought
peach-bloom or stra-color would look sweetly,
and he thanked me, and asked if I could suggest
any other improvement; and I fairly blushed at




MISS SLIMMENSS B WINDOW.      13
having him putting such questions to me, and I
said: " Oh, Mr. Stebbins, if you'd really like my
ideas on the subject, I think a handsome portcullis over the front door would make your house
almost equal to Squire HIIiggins's." "The very
thing!" said he; " and, if it don't cost too much,
I shall have one right away."
What's'that you say, Clara Brown? "Stebbins is apt to look at the cost of a thing before he
gets it." Supposing he is, then; so is any prudent man; they'd be a fool not to. I guess
there's some as have to work in this shop. for
seventy-five cents a week and their board would
be glad of a chance to help spend what he's been
so prudential as to lay up. Mind that shir you're
running. You're getting it as crooked as one of
Tim Button's stories; and that bunnit is for Mrs.
-Martingall, the particularest of all my customers.
What has Stebbins gone out of town for? I
haven't insinuated that I knew, have I? He
may be gone to Boston to get a new set of hairbottomed chairs and a carpet for the front room
before a certain ceremony comes off; but that's
not saying that he has, nor that I know anything
about his business. I may be going to make a




14        MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
wedding-bunnit for somebody not far away from
this chair, out of this piece of white satin; but
that's not saying that I am going to. Look here,
Dora Adams, if you don't quit that everlasting
giggling and snorting out a laughing, you'll quit
my shop. How much work do you suppose you
get done in a day, between looking at them red
danglers that you set up half the night to put in
papers, and snickering at goodness knows what
every five minutes? "Your hair isn't red; it's
orborn and curls naturally?" Humph! perhaps
youll get some fine young man to believe that,
but not immejetly.
Just see that little, stuck-up Laura Griggs trotting along to school in her all-wool de laine dress,
plenty good enough for Sundays. Her mother
just does it to spite better people; but, if what
report says is true, she'll soon be in the fix of the
man that bit off his nose to spite his face. It's.
no matter what I mean. I'm never the first to
spread bad news; and I don't intend to be now.
People that live beyond their means must expect
to be brought up with a short turn some time.
When folks gets to sending to Boston and Lowell
for their bunnits, because there's nothing in their
own village good enough for'em, it's time —---




MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.       15
Wonder whose dog that can be? Giils, run
here, and look, before he gets past the corner;
that one with the crimpy tale, black and white.
Did either of you ever see it before?  "No?"
Well, neither did I; and now somebody's got
company, or somebody's been buying him. It's
curious his master wasn't with him; being a
strange dog, so, he'd be apt to have somebody
with him to keep watch of him. He couldn't be
a stray dog; lie run along too contented for that.'He's a beautiful fellow; such long, silky hair,
such intelligent eyes, and such a curly-gracious!
here he comes! not the dog, but his master!
Yes, that must be him, for he's a stranger, and
now he's whistling to him; and he's got on one
of them new-fangled overcoats, and is so stylish!
Dear me! I wish I knew who(he was visiting,
and what brought him to Pennyville, and how
long he was going to stay. Goodness I he looked
right straight in the window; and he must have
seen sonrething to admire, for he kept on looking
full a minute. Girls, what are you peaking over
my shoulder for? Get back to your work, you
lazy, giggling things! I declare, I shall go crazy
long before I'm thirty years old, if I have to keep
track of two such idle snips! IIe's gone round




16        MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
the corner, now, toward Squire Higgins's. If
Sabina Higgins caught that fish when she was
away to her uncle's, she did more than I gave
her credit for. Hand me that Leghorn flat. It's
to be called for at sundown, and I've not made
the first bow yet, nor put in the lining. If there
wasn't so much gab going on in this shop, there'd
be more work. I don't see what they wanted
the flat so particularly to-night for. There's no
picnic nor nothing going off that I've heard of,
and it's three days to Sunday. MAaybe Celestia's
going to town with her father when he takes his
grain to market.  It's always hurry! hurry!
hurry! Everybody hurries the milliner, just for'the fun of it, I believe. There's one thing,
Alvira Slimmens don't intend to be their slave
much' longer. She sighs for the repose of a
straw-colored house, with a white portcullis to
shade it, like the satin cape of a Leghorn bunnit.
What's that?. "getting poetical?"  Supposing I
am? Young people mostly are occasionally;
and I don't see what's to prevent. There are
but few in the interesting situation of an engagement but feels inclined, at times, to express their
feelings in verse. There was some lines by somebody to somebody in the last number of the




MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.          17
"Pennyville Eagle," signed "J. S.;" and, if
"J. S." don't stand for Joshua Stebbins, what
does it stand for?  I've answered them already,
and shall send the verses over to the printer's tonight; but I wouldn't have anybody know for
the world that I was an authoress. I wouldn't
read'em to anybody if I was asked; but I'll recite the last verse, because I know you'd like tc
hear it:
"Long as there's water in the sea,
Or planets in the heavens,
My heart shall only beat for thee,
My voice shall murmur **'***"
I've left the last word stars, so that the public
might not perceive too much of what is too sacred
to betray. That blue ribbon, Clara! Blue is a
sweet color. The language of blue is constancy.
It's so romantic to have the virgin affections true
to oneFor the land's sake! as true as I'm alive, if
there ish't Stebbins come home-in a buggy, too
-and a woman with him that ain't his mother!
She's got white ribbin on her bunnit and a white
veil; and he's helping her out as if he was treading on eggs.  "She looks like a bride," hey?




18        MISS SLIMAMENS S WINDOW.
was that what you said? She does, that's a fact;
and I'll bet that heartless Stebbins has been up
and getting married, without letting anybody
know it, and his first wife scarcely cold in her
grave. It's just ten months Tuesday since the
funeral, when he took on so hard, the old hypocrite! I declare it makes me faint and sick to
think of it; but I'm sure I need not be surprised,
for he asked me long ago to take her place, but
I refused him, with the uttermost indignation.
I told him he ought to be ashamed of himself,
and he a widower such a brief length o' time.
Joshua Stebbins must a took me for a bigger
fool than I am, to expect I was going to take up
with a crooked stick at la'st, and two frecklefaced, quarrelsome, hateful little brats besides.
I guess his new wife didn't know what she was
coming home to; them children is the pest of the
neighborhood. Humph! he helps her up the
steps under that portcullis mighty pleasant now,
and I suppose she's admiring things; but if she
don't wait many a month before the stingy cretur
gets anything more, and if she doesn't have to
wear faded finery after a while, then I lose my
guess. " You thought I approved Mr. Stebbins's
prudence?" So I do approve of a proper degree




MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.        19
of prumence in anybody; but nobody ever heard
me say I upheld the right-up-and-down meamness
of that llan-his stinginess. Why, hle'd steal
the cents off a dead man's eyes, for all I knew!
and I don't -wish you to say again that I approve
of hin.
She's minced into the house, row, and lie's
tied his horse and gone in with her. I hope
you'll be able to keep your eyes on your work,
now there's no more to be seen. It seems as if
my window was made for nothing in thlle world
but for my apprentices to gap out at everything
and everybody. There never was a woman tormented with two suchl idle- minxes as yon girls.
Clara Brown, you're doing that all wrong!  No, I
didn't tell you to do it that way, neither. What
do you mean by contradicting me? You will
finish that job, now, before you go to bed, if it
takes you till three o'clock in the mornin'; I
won't pay girls for whispering, and talking, and
looking out the window; I don't do it myself,
and I don't allow it in others. I can just tell
you what it is, I shan't try to get tfis fiat trimmued
for that high-flyer of a young miss; if she's disappointed, it's good enough for her. 3My head
aches, and I ain't a-going to talke another stitch




20         MIISs SLIMIENSS's WI)OW.
to-day. Dora!-do you hear mlc?-go and put
over tle kettle; I want a good, strong' cup o' tea.
Don't bother me nrith questions; I ain't going to
speakl a:gain this evening.  I'm tired of your
aLbble, and I want silence for once in my life;
and now, because you can't talk, talk, talk, I
suppose you're wondering and wondering who
the bride is, and what her name was, and how
she looks, and where she comne from, and how
old she is, and what they're a-getting for supper, and whether you'll have a piece of the wedding-cakle, and how lie happened to get acqnainted
wvith her; but I'd jest advise you to mind your
own business, and let other people's alone. I
won't have it; so just quit it. You needn't be
setting that tea to steeping just yet. I'mn going
to throw on my bunnit, and run over and call. I
want to be the first to congratulate'em, just to
show Joshua Stebbins that I don't care a pin for
himn; tlhough if somebody was a mind to sew
him for a brich of promise, shle might kiclk up a
pretty muss in Pennyville; but you can't catch
old birds with chaff, nor Alvira Slimmens with
a widower.




CIIAPTER II.
MIISS SLIMMfIEN'S HAS IIOPES.
-SN'T that old Dr. Greene-yes, it is —coming
out of Peters's?  Of course, Sarah Peters's
got another baby!- She and Queen Vietory have
run about an equal match, thouglh I believe sllhe's
beat the queen by this last one; yes, this is her
nintll. AWell, I never thouglht she'd come to tlhat
when slhe and I used to be girls togetller-tllat
is, she Twas a great big, and I was a very little,
girl. It used to make her as mad as fire when
she had to tend any of her own little sisters and
brothers; she often said she hated young onles,
and I hope she's got enough of'ema now. That
comes of her not followingr my example, and jest
saying " No!" right out, every time a simpleton
of a male cretur, in pantaloons, come a-sugaring
around and wanting to send for the minister.
Thle pertinasty of some men is surprisin'! If 1
21




22         M!/ISS SLIMIAtENSS WINDOW.
hadn't fit and fit against it, I mlight have been
seduced into matrimony nyself, and been in the
same fix she is this blessed mllinit.  Good Lord!
I oughllt to be thankl-ful for my delivery; it's bad
eloughl bleaching, and trilllllmmin   and making up
bunnits for a living, but it's not quite so bad as
nine, squalling, eating, teasing, worrying plagues
to cook atld luend for.  The more I tlink on it,
the more I thank my stars that I gave Stebbins
the mitten as flat as I did.
Yes, it's another baby, sure enougTh; do hear
the little pantlher yell! I wish they'd keep their
windows shut, distracting  decent people with
their hullabaloo.  If there's anything  on airth I
hate and despise, it's a little sqluirming, kildngl,
pilly-faced, screeching baby.  If I had that little
red thingc over here, I'd use it for a pincushioln.
What's that, Clara Brown? "  ou love the innocent things, and hope you'll get married some of
thlse days, and have one of your own?"  Ugh1!
I've a notion to turn you out of mly shop, you
indelicate, ilnmmodest young woman, you! What
is tlle females of the presenlt clay coiing to, wh-en
a clhit of seventeen can confess that she ever even
t/houyhat of such a thing?  If I ever s/toucld be so
overcome by persuasion as to consentto share the




MISS SLIMMENS'S WIN-DOW.    23
home of some being of the opposite sex, rItrust
that our affections will be of too(pirituous a
character to fulminate in a cradle and a bundle
of squalling red flanne_  Hey? I heard that
whisper, Dora Adams.  You said-and you
needn't deny it-that if I waited much longer,
you guessed there wouldn't be any danger.
What did you mean by that? say! what did you
mean?  If you think your'red curls and your
sassy ways is going to excuse impudence to them
that employs you, you're mistaken; and you've
got to tell what you meant by that speech.
"You meant that my beaux would become discouraged,.and be obleeged to court somebody
else2"' Oil, that's not so bad as it might have
been if you'd been saying what doesn't become
you.  I suppose you're looking for'ard to a
chance, and maybe you'll get one when you grow
out of looking so dowdy and fat. Your cheeks
are like two poppies, and your waist is almost as
big again as it ought to be; if I were in your
place, I'd drink vinegar.  There! you needn't
roll them great eyes of yours over to Clara, as
much as to say there is plenty of vinegar about.
What did Celestia say because she didn't get her
leglhorn last night?  "Almost cried," hey, and




24        MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.
you " felt so sorry for her that you went to work
and finished it?" Another one of your liberties,
when you knew that I left it onpurpose to disappoint her. It makes these chits altogether too
selfish and conceited to have all their whims
humored; a little vexation of spirit is good for
em, once in a while.
How did I. like Stebbins's new wife? I've no
doubt he's done as well as an old widower with
two young ones could expect to. I shouldn't
think she was over thirty, and some folks might
think she was good-looking, but her eyes is too
black and sparkly, and her nose is pug, and she's
too plump to have a particle of style about her.
She's dreadful blushing and smiling now, but if
them children don't see hard times before a year's
gone by, then Alvira Slimmens isn't good at
guessing. Stebbins looked as if he'd like to
crawl through an auger-hole when he seen it was
me, and he colored up like a beet when he introduced Mrs. Stebbins.  I expect he saw I was
eyeing her mighty sharp, for he kept hitching
about, as, uneasy as a fish out of water; but I
catched them smiling in their sleeves when they
thought I didn't take notice. I guess she was
some poor body, that couldn't do any better, for




MISS SLIMMENS' WINDOW.       25
her bunnit was as much as three months behind
the fashion, and her silk gown was a kind of a
slimsy thing. Did I leave that poetry I was
speaking of at the printing-office, on my way
home? Mercy sake alive! you're ruining that
piece of satin, you careless thing! Lay it down,
and go and bring me them satins, and hand me
that ruche, and pick up them scraps off the
carpet.
"La! Miss Peters's got another baby.  As
soon's I got my work done, I must'drop in and
see how she's getting along. The poor creture
can't have much life left in her; and as for
him, I don't see how he contrives to find bread
and butter for so many months. I've a good
notion to take her over some of my quince-jelly
and one of them young chickens. No I won't,
neither; I'm so provoked at her for being such a
fool! She'll expect me to hold the young one,
and kiss it, and make a fuss over it, when I'd
rather choke the little rat. If ever there was a
torment sent upon earth, it's children. They're
worse than the seven plagues of Egypt-no
peace, no quiet, no order where they are-greasing you up, and falling down and bumping themselves, scratching each other, littering up the
2




26         MISS SLIMMENSKS  WINDOW.
floor, taking the measles, and the chickenpox, and
the scarlet fever, wearing out their clothes, telling
tales, stealing your sugar and preserves, crying
with the stomach-ache, taking fits in the night,
falling in the creek and getting drowned, they
make a perfect panorama; and I only wonder
their mothers don't go crazy with insanity.
When there's any prospects of my having any,
the Lord deliver me!   Miss Peters's got Mother
Lummis to nuss her; I see her pass through the
hall just now. There's one of the children out
in the street; I'll just call her over, and find out
whether it's a girl or a boy. So! you've got a
little sister, have you? oh! a brother?  Nice
little fellow, isn't he? Here! take this piece of
pretty red silk for your, patchwork, and run
home, now. Tell your ma I'll be over to see her
before night. I s'pose I ought to take her somnething to cheer her up, though I don't pity her
one bit. If there's anything that I'm continually
and everlastingly thankful about, it is that I've
kept out of such scrapes.
Did you ever! if there ain't Miss Purson comling across the road, with that bunnit of hers in a
newspaper, as usual. I've altered that bunnit
once a year, and trimmed it twice a year, for the




MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.        27
last-well, time out of mind! I do wish she'd
get a new one; I'm tired of that Leghorn bunnit;
it's like some people's tongues-there's no end to
it. The first time she brought it, it was trimmed
with plulm-colored satin-ribbin and gold artificials, and I bleached it for her, and put the same
trirnmin's back on. I've sewed braid on to make
it larger, and I've took braid off to make it
smaller; It's been on the block more times'an
I've got fingers. I did hope she'd patternize me,
and open her heart far enough to buy a new one
out-and-out, this fall. I've a notion to tell her
the straw's got so rotten it won't bear no more
pressin'. Oh, good-morning, Miss Purson! Fine
day! S'pose you've come to look at the new
style of bunnits.  Most all the gentility of
Pennyville has been in to take a look and make
their choices; but there's sorne left, that'll suit
you, I guess, for all you're so insiduous. What!
Thought you'd have your Tuscan bleached over
and fixed up a little? Thought I told you, the
last time,'twould never stand another doin' over.
I'd a great mind to charge you two shillin's
extra, last fall, I had so much bother to keep it
stuck together. If you want that thing teched
again, you'd better take it to Miss Bungleby's




28        MISS SLIMMIENS S WINDOW.
shop; she'll be able to do it justice; and then
she's so fashionable-gets her patterns after she
has a good chance to steal mine, and puts sech an
air on things!  I think she'd make your old
Tuscan look egregious. You'd like a new bunnit,
if Mr. Purson could spare the money? Just tell
him for me, that if he can't afford his wife a
bunnit once in eight years, he'd better quit carpentering, and go to sawing wood; that he
needn't aspire to the respectability of Pennyville
any longer.  Now, look here! here's a sweet
thing —a Florence braid, with a lovely ruche, and
all this bugle lace around the cape and brim,
besides the feather. I showed it to 1Miss Grant,
and she pronounced it superfluous. She said
maybe she'd conclude to take it the next time
she was in; but I hinted to her that it was spoken
for, because I knew it would just suit your style
and complexion, and I like to obleege my old customers. I asked her six and a half for it, but
you may have it for six, seeing it's you, but I
shan't make a cent on it.
Good Lord! if there ain't a buggy running
away! do see how he kicks! he will certainly
be thrown out! he's making straight for that pile
of brick as he can go! I do wonder who it can




MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.        29
be! It's a horse from the liberty-stable, and yes!
goodness gracious! it's that handsome stranger
that had that curly dog with the-oh, hevings!
there he goes, smash-bang, right into the bricks!
He's killed now, I do believe! I'm so scart, I
don't know what I'm a saying. He's certainly
killed! see him tearing down the streets, and
the spokes a flying, and the poor young gentleman picking himself up. I must go to his assistance this minute. It shall never be said that
Alvira Slimmens turned an unfortunate young
man out of doors. Oh, sir! how do you feel?
Are you faint-like? Lean upon me, upon my
bo-shoulder.  Dear me! I'm  so flustered, I
don't know what I'm doing or saying. Is it
your head, or your arm, or your-limb?  Ain't
a bit hurt? only a trifle bruised? Thank the
Lord! Well, walk in, and let me brush your
coat.  It's all brick dust.  Can walk without
assistance?  Oh, I'm so glad of it! But don't
over-exert yourself-don't!
Clara, Dora, get the brush! hand it to me.
There, now, you look a little more like your present self. What a circumstantial escape you've
had! I shall never cease to congratulate myself
that the shop of Alvira Slimmens stood where it




30         MISS SLIMIMENS S WINDOW.
could afford a place of refuge to a ship-wracked
stranger.  Take a chair, won't you?  Mly, your
coat's tore out at the arm! Dora, bring a needle
and some black silk. No, you needn't be afraid
of making trouble. I'd rather mend it'an not.
Stopping long in Pennyville?  Visiting, or stopping at the tavern?  Oh, the tavern! On business I suppose?  Any acquaintances?  Ours is a
very pedantic village, considered very rural on
the outskirts, great deal of scenery and land
around it. Perhaps you're an author, or an artist,
come to rustify. I've read so many sweet stories
about such things; and I declare, when you was
thrown out in that terrible manner, I felt like
flying to you, stranger as you was, and exclaiming, with that dear Moore:
" Come rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer,
Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here."
Clara Browne, go in the other room this minute, and stay there till I recall you.  What?
must you go? Well, call again. I shall feel
extremely solicitary about your health. Oh, no
thanks at all, sir! I've only done my duty as
one of my sex should do it.
He's gone.  "Thou'rt gone from  my sight,




MISS SLIMMENSIS WINDOW.         31
like a beautiful dream!"  How  earnestly he
kept looking back, as if he couldn't endure to
tear himself away; but he must go to the libertystable, and let Smith know that his baulky horse
has run away. If there ain't that sassy Clara,
standing at the door, looking out after him, when
I sent her in there because she kept making eyes
at him, and laughing in her sleeve.
My hand trimbles so, I can hardly baste this
silk on. It's come at last. I knew it would. I
knew Alvira Slimmens was destined to see the
hero of whom she has dreamed, about whom she
has had many a ponderous fancy-that he would
come in some unusual way; and now a circumstantial Providence has thrown him into that
pile of brick, at her very feet, as it were.
Dora Adams, go over to Springle's, and get,
me a dozen of them new-fangled curling-clasps
and a bottle of lavender-water; and let me tell
you, once for all, that, if you and Clara don't
quit a winking at each other, and making them
secret signs, you'll repent it.  [Murmurs sotto
voce:]
" Oh, there are tones and looks that dart
An instant sunshine through the heart!"




32        ZMISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
and that was the way I felt.  What a splendid
subjeck for a poem for the "' Eagle," to be called
"The Runaway Buggy!" no! that's not romantic
enough;  "The  Fearful  Risk!"  no! "The
Stranger's Escape i" that's better; or, "The Castaway; or, the Leap for Life-a Tradegy," and
sign it " Alvira S."-no! " A. S."-and send it
to him. I'll do it this very night-write it while
I'm  putting my hair in papers.  [Sings in an
undertone:]
" Oh, Alvira Slimmens,
You'll soon quit bunnits and trimmin's,
Bunnits and trimmin's,
T-r-i-m-m-i-n's I"




CIHAPTER III.
MISS SLIMMENS IS HONORED WITH A SERENADE.
LY around, girls, and get this shop in a little
better order! I'm expecting company, this
morning, of a little genteeler order than usual.
Them new-fangled curling-clasps are just the
things. How's my ringlets? I think nobody
could tell'em from the most natural kind Anybody could tell, Clara Brown, that your'n had
been in papers all night. I believe you're settin'
your cap for somebody, or you wouldn't take all
that trouble. Who be I expecting  Why, who
should I expect, but the one that's the most
likely to come?  It's altogether probable that
the common emotions of gratitude would prompt
any right-minded young gentleman to testify his
sentiments to his life-preserver. You wasn't
aware that I had acted as life-preserver to any
young gentleman?  Well, if I didn't exactly
3                 83




34        MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.
save the life of the stranger who was throwed
out into them bricks yesterday, I did all I could
toward it; and I offered him the refuge of my
shop and of my-my support; and I dusted his
clothes, and mended his coat, and made him fit
to be seen again; and that's the next thing to it.
If I was in his place, I'd sue the keeper of that
liberty-stable for damages, and get enough to
set up housekeeping with; though I suspect he's
rich enough -for that any time a day. He must
be dreadful rich and aristocratic, he'd such an
air, and his coat was cut so genteel. I almost
wish he wasn't. I almost wish he was one of
them suffering geniuses I've read about in tales,
driven to the brink of separation by reduction
in circumstances, and, jest as he was on the pint
of committing: death by suicide,sonebody, some
sympathetic being who had money laid up in
the bank, would step forward, and rescue him
from his suspending fate by the offer of her
heart and hand and six hundred dollars in the
Bank of Lowell.
Here, Dora, thread this needle for me. "Is
my eyesight failing "  I'm not aware as it is,
Miss Impudence-don't know any reason why it
should. Anybody's hand would be a trifle un



MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.      35
stiddy that was all tremulous with expectancy,
to say nothing of' being up late last night, composing poetry on a certain harrowing event. Do
I mean the marriage of Joshua Stebbins? Miss
Adams! never mention that name to me again,
unless you want to go home to your mother.
I've told you several times that I give that man
the mitten without any ceremony; and Pm gladder and gladder of it now than ever. I wouldn't
have had him if his portcullis had been made of
gold. Josh Stebbins! humph! the very name's
enough! I wish I knew what his name was.
He never thought to leave it. Of course, he's
got one, unless he intends to appear synonymously; and even then he'd have to take a "nom
de feather," as the French say. It isn't feather,
it's plume?  Well what's the difference betwixt
a feather and a plume? I've not been a milliner
for the last twen-seven years not to know
what a feather is; and I don't ask to be taught
by a miss that ought to be in her pantalets yet.
There! there's a knock! Wait a minute till I
fix my hair a little. I wonder who it can be; I
didn't see any one pass my window.  Now,
open the door. Oh, Miiss Grant? how do you
do? I was jest wishing you'd happen. along.




36        MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
Been a thinking about your folks for an hour
back. How's your poor dear old grandmotherher rheumatiz is such an infliction-and the
boys2 I hear Reuben's going to start a singingschool as soon as cold weather and long evenings
comes; and I hope the news is true, for I've been
thinking of joining the school myself, as a powerful voice like mine that's used to church musi~
is always a help to the rest;,that is, if I'm a resident of Pennyville at that time, which maybe I
shan't be. No, I don't know as I expect to set
up the millinary business in any other spot; but
I may take a fancy to quit it altogether. " Two
yards of scarlet ribbon, wide "-here it is, if it
suits you. It's for a sash, I reckon, to wear to
the party that I hear is coming off next week.
I sold that bunnit yesterday that you didn't
exactly fancy. You said you thought you
wouldn't take it; but I'm gettin' up another to
be'done against Sunday, that I shall try to have
satisfactory; and I'll promise you not to make
another like it for anybody in Pennyville. I'm
not particular about the money till the end of
the month; your fayther is always good pay.
Did you hear of the dreadful accident?  "No?"
Is it possible?  Yesterday —it was yesterday.




MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.      37
Oh, dear me! I haven't got over it yet! I expect you'll see an account of it in the " Eagle,"
when it comes out Saturday. No, they wasn't
killed; but they come as near it as they could
and hope to survive. You see, I was standing
quietly in my shop, selling that very bunnit,
and never dreaming of any trouble, and I heard
a furious rattling down the street, and I run to
the door, and there was the sweetest dark-eyed
young gentleman that I never sot eyes on but
once before, a stranger in the place, stopping at
the tavern, coming dashing down the road as
hard as he could kick, jumping and tearing like
mad. I see in a minute'twas that baulky horse
from Smith's liberty-stable, and my heart riz up
in my mouth, for he's an ugly creature; and
there he was in such imminent danger, for he
couldn't guide him at all, though he held on to
the reins bravely, and kept his seat until he
pitched for that brick heap across yonder; and
then I screamed, for I give up all for lost; but,
resolved I'd rescue him, or perish in the attempt,
I ran right out in the road before the furious
animal, throwed up my arms, and would have
stopped him; but it was too late.  He had
smashed into the bricks, and' the buggy upset-;




38        MISS SLIMMENS' S WINDOW.
and the gentleman was thrown into them head
first; and I picked him up for dead.  But, after
I'd carried him into the house, and bathed his
brow with camfire, and rubbed his hands, and
unbuttoned his shirt-bosom to give him air, he
survived, and, after awhile, was able to ascertain
that he was not mortally killed. His coat was
all torn to flinders.  It took me two hours to
darn it up, so that he could get back to the
tavern with it.- Five and sixpence for the ribbon; thank'ee; that's right. Tell your mother
I've got some dress-caps now that ruther surpass
anything I've had before. I sold two to Squire
Waldron's wife, she liked'em so well. Goodday. Come in to-morrow and get your bunnit.
Two o'clock! This is the longest day I've
experienced for some time. Don't seem to be
any business a doing, neither. I shall break up
if things go on at this rate. What's that on the
other side of the road? It's-no it ain't, either;
it's only Jim Wilkins. Open the door, Dora.
There's somebody knocking. Clara, my love,
will you be so kind as to hand me-fiddlestick!
what a scared-looking little thing!  "Mother
wants a skein of blue sewing-silk." Well, speak
out, and don't stammer so. Here it is; though I




MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.       39
don't see why you didn't go to the thread-andneedle store, and not bother me with your pennies. Alvira Slimmens is not so poverty-stricken
yet as to be obleeged to sell a cent's worth o'
silk. There, go along with you!
That's six times, if it's once, that Emmeline
Jones has passed this window to-day. She ought
to be ashamed of herself, gad, gadding about,
and her poor mother at home, washing for a living! Perhaps she is going of errands? Pooh!
perhaps she isn't. She's an idle, good-for-nothing
girl, I make no doubt; sailing by in that old
shawl as graceful as if she was a princess. She
thinks those great black eyes of hers is going to
save her the trouble of working for a living, as
honest people have to. Some folks pretend she's
got the consumption; and her mother makes a
fool of her, nursing her up, and taking all the
work on her own shoulders; but if there's any
two things I can't abide, it's pride and -laziness,'specially when they go together. Some young
girls not very far from where I'm sitting, may
have some of the same notions, and the quicker
they get rid of them tlie better, if they'expect
my patronage and support.
That's a queer looking wagon, going by. A




40        MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.
peddler's cart, most likely. He can't have tinware, or we would see it on the outside; it must
be paper, or patent medicine, or furniture polish,
or dry goods.  And there goes a.man, trotting
by, as if he was going for the doctor, or running
away from the hangman. And that just puts
me in mind that I see a reward offered in a New
York paper last week for the reprehension of a
fellow who had been passing counterfeit money.
That person that just passed looked like a counterfeiter. His whiskers was all over his face,
and he had one of those wicked mustaches, and
his cap was slouched over his eyes, and his horse
was all in a foam, he'd been ridin' him so hard.
What a curious coincidence it would be if this
should be the same one!
Four o'clock! Well-l-l! it does seem as if the
days were getting longer instead of shorter. It's
an age since dinner-time. Good gracious! how
that startled me! Go to the door, Clara. No,
I haven't any paper-rags! Clear out, you little
rascal! Here comes that begging Miss Burrows,
with a subscription paper as usual. Good afternoon, Mliss Burrows. Take a chair? No, I can't
give a penny, and I won't! I don't make my
own living now; the folks in Pennyville is get



MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.      41
ting too grand to patternize their own milliner,
and going off to Lowell and Boston for their best
things, and I shan't give one cent to any charitable purpose whatever, and I don't care if the
minister himself hears me say so. I'm a-going
to quit the sewin' society next week, and take
-my name off the Missionary Club. Charity
begins to home. When Pennyville treats me as
it oughter, then I'll treat it as I oughter. Only
last week, Deacon Walden's wife come home
with a velvet hat (h at's the word now) that she
paid nine dollars for in Boston.
Do hear that child squall!  If Miss Peters is
going to keep on raising a family, I'll move my
shop out of this neighborhood. I've stood the
screaming of nine successive babies, but I won't
stand a tenth. You're doing your work all
wrong, Dora. I won't pay you your wages this
week, if you spoil that silk-and I really believe
you have spoiled it.  Clara Brown! you've
done nothing to-day but start, and stare out that
window, as if you were looking for a husband to
happen along. You don't earn the salt to put in
your porridge. If you wasn't seventeen years
old I'd box your ears for the way you have put
that border in. You needn't flush up, and shake




42        MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
back your hair so independent. You know very
well that you've got no other place to go to; so
you'd better take it easy. My! if the little baby
isn't trying to cry! I hope she won't let her
tears drop on that silk, because, if she does, she'll
have to pay for the damage she's done. You're
an ungrateful girl, Clara Brown, and I tell you,
once for all
Oh! how do you feel, to-day, Mr.? I
believe I haven't the pleasure of knowing your
name yet.  "MIr. Wiggleby."  Walk in, and
take a chair, Mr. Wiggleby. Clara, dear, place
a chair for MSr. Wiggleby.. Dora, my love, take
his hat and cane. We didn't expect to see you
to-day, Mr. Wiggleby; especially as we feared
that your injuries had proved more serious than
was at first participated. Allow me to congratulate you upon your speedy restoration to convalescence.  Oh, no! he! he! he! indeed, Mr.
Wiggleby, I shan't take one particle of the
credit upon myself. My humble efforts were
prompted by the impulse of a woman's heart.
You know  what the poet says, Mr., Wiggleby? I know you do, now, and you needn't
attempt to deny it. Those eyes and that forrid
betray you to be one familiar pWith poetry as




MISS SLIMMENS' S WINDOW.       43
you are with your daily bread. But, as I was
saying" Oh, woman! in our hours of ease,
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,
When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministerial angel thou!"
That is the way with our sex, Mr. Wiggleby. If
you had approached me in any ordinary manner,
you would have found me " coy" and " hard to
please," for I'm very bashful before gentlemen;
but coming as you did, appealing to my tenderest emotions, when "pain and anguish wrung
your brow," and your clothes was all covered
with brickdust, and your coat tore, and I feared
the worst-oh, sir, I shall never be able to express what I felt upon that peculiar occasion!
I always felt as if some such thing was going to
happen to me; and when it really took place, I
was so flustered I never slept a wink last night.
But oh, Mr. Wiggleby! I shall never cease to
remember, with burning blushes of diffidence
and regret, the imprudence, the immodesty, I
may say, into which my fright and overwhelming feelings induced me. I can never forget it,
hut I beg that?out will; that you will banish it




44        MWISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.
from your mind as a thing that has never been,
or henceforth our future intercourse will be poisoned by the hateful thought that you are sometimes thinking of it, and condemning the act.
"To what do I refer.?"  Oh, Mr. Wiggleby! is
it possible that you were really insensible at that
fearful moment? that you were not conscious
that I received you in my arms? that your head
was pillowed upon my troubled bosom? Then
let the secret remain with me! you shall never
know it, for Alvira Slimmens would die before
she would willingly confess that a being of the
opposite sex had reposed, even for a moment,
upon her heart! much less, that in a moment of
distraction, she had pressed her lips to his bleeding brow. I feel as if a mountain was lifted oft
my breast, since I have ascertained that you are
not aware of my indiscretion.
Clara, darling, you may go and see about pre,
paring the tea. You will stay to tea, will you
not, Mr. Wiggleby? We shall feel too much
honored; and, indeed, we can't think of letting
you go. There! I thought we could persuade
you  Dora, I presume Clara will need your
assistance. You can lay aside your work, and
go and remain with her till supper is ready.




MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.      45
"What are the names of those young ladies?"
You make me smile, for really I never think of
them except as children; but they are growing
up, I believe. Clara and Dora, two very pretty
names; and they are nice enough girls, but foolish and giddy, like all apprentices. How do you
like our village to-day? Have you perambulated
about it sufficiently to be familiar with its principal inducements? I trust you will find charms
to retain you here a number of weeks. It's so
seldom we have a stranger among us, that he is
quite a treat, especially to me, who feel so much
the want of congenial, intelligent society among
the young of my own age. Did you say you
was a painter, Mr. Wiggleby? No o? I thought
perhaps you might be. What is your place of
residing, when you are at home? Boston! Allow me to congratulate you upon being a citizen
of the " Atkins of America," as our speaker said,
at the last meeting of our Lyceum. You must
attend our Lyceum, Mr. Wiggleby. We are
quite proud of it. We have some excellent compositions, and some of the most instructive and
exciting discussions. All our leading people
take a part in it, including the minister and




46        MISS SLIMIMIENS S WINDOW.
Squire Grant; and there is an occasional poetical suffusion from-I won't say who. It's a
great secret; and there's great curiosity among
the young men to find out who their " talented
and unknown contributor" is. You wouldn't
guess it was me, now, would you, Mlr. Wiggleby?
I don't know that there's anything romantic in
my appearance, but my ringlets and my pensive
expression. Oh, now, you get out, DMr. Wiggleby! you're only trying to flatter me! Would
you have known from the first glance that I was
" a creature of the imagination, that there was
but little that was real and substantial about
me''  "She's all my fancy painted her "-how
sweetly you quoted that, Mr. Wiggleby! Now,
I'm sure you must be a poet. If you're fond of
verses, I can read you some composed by a very
dear friend of mine, no longer ago than last
night, upon a certain subject interesting to both
of us. I have them here; I just slipped them in
my bosom to have them handy to look at, to
remind me of the most thrilling incidents of my
life. The authoress hasn't quite fixed upon a
title-page yet, but thinks of calling it by some
name that will be suggestive of the catastrophe.




MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.                 47
After you've heard them, you'll be good enough,
maybe, to give her the benefit of your taste.
Hem! I hope you'll like'em; hem-m I
The shades of night was falling fast,
As through the road to Pennyville passed(that's a poetical license about the shades, as it
was quite early in the forenoon; but nobody
expects poetry to be factitious)
A youth none ever saw before,
Whose furious steed pitched, plunged, and tore.
Whoa-oh! oh! oh!
His brow was sad; his eyes beneath
Flashed like a dagger in its sheath;
While like a clarionet loud rung
The accense of that unknown tongueWhoa-oh! oh! oh!
His hands were clinched about the rains,
The blood was freezing in his vains,
As, rattling over stump and stone,
Still from his lips escaped this groan:
Whoa-oh! oh! oh!
Attracted by the clattering noise,
The road swarmed full of men and boys.
Oh, "Stop him! stop him!" loud they call;
But he whirls out of sight of all.
Whoa-oh! oh! oh 




48.           MISS SLIMMENSS  V WINDOW..
(Getting out of the sight of all is illustrious of
the intense speed i his progress).
Alvira, by the sound amazed,
From out her window swiftly gazed;
She saw his danger; and her shriek
Told what she felt, but couldn't speakWhoa-oh! oh! oh I
Some twenty feet away, or more,
Almost.before her very door,
Loomed up a mountain-pile of bricks,
Toward which, the wild steed runs and kicks.
Whoa-oh! oh! oh I
"Oh, stay " Alvira cried, "and rest
Thy weary head upon this breast!"
She knew not what she did or said,
For love and pity turned her head.
Whoa — oh! oh! OH!
Wildly she rushed across the street,
That raging animal to meets
" My life," she cried, "I ll give for his I"
And waved her arms, and shouted this:
Whoa-oh! ohl oH!
But madly on the pile he rushed;
The horse was hurt, the buggy crushed.
Half buried in the bricks she found
The youth, who bled from many a wound.
Whoa-oh! oh! oh!




MISS SLIMMENS7S WINDOW.              49
There in the twilight, cold and grey,
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,
His hands in hers she wildly pressed,
And clasped him to her heaving breast.
Whoa-oh! oh! oh!
Her touch restored his sinking frame;
He gasped! he breathed! he sighed her name!
(Another license, as, of course, at that time, he
didn't know it).
She bore him, living, to her shop,
While distant voices still cried: " Stop!
Whoa-oh! oh! oh!"
Do you really think it as pathetic as it is descriptive?  My voice trembled so on the last
verse I was afraid you couldn't understand it.
Some envious people, who know nothing about
authority, will be saying that it is not original,
that I borrowed the idea from one of Longfellow's pieces; but I'll defy them to.prove it.
He did write something like it once; but who
can prove which was written first, unless they
know all the circumstances? And Longfellow is
pretty well known to be a plagealizer.  What!
supper on the table a'ready?  Well, girls, you've
been uncommon quick this time. Walk out in
t'other room, Mr. Wiggleby, and make yourself
3




50        MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.
to home-to home, I say, because a young man
stopping at a tavern must have a longing to hear
the word once more.
Now he's gone, girls, I can tell you you had
altogether too much to say to Mr. Wiggleby,
considering that he was an entire stranger to
you. "Children should be seen, and not heard,"
particularly at the table.  I was mortified to
death at you, Clara, when you came so neafr to
spilling your tea right on the table-cloth with
that everlasting giggling of yours. And-one
thing more! let me tell you that I heard both of
you laughing and stuffing your apurns in your
mouth, with the door about an inch open, when
I was reading them verses to Mr. Wiggleby.  I
didn't take notice of it at the time, as I hoped he
didn't hear it; but you'll laugh behind somebody else's door, if you ever dare to play eavesdropper again. Go to bed, both of you! Do I
want any help about dyeing my hair? When I
do, I'll ask it. You'd better color your own,
Miss Saucebox; it's getting redder than ever.
Hush! hark! that music is right under my
window!  Yes, Alvira Slimmens, as sure as
you're a born woman, you're getting a serenade.
I. wonder what the neighbors'11 say now, with




MISS SLIMIENSIS WINDOW.     51
all their curling up their noses at you're being
ani old maid. How I wish I dared to raise the
window! I would; but my hair is in papers,
and my teeth are in the tumbler, and I've washed the paint all off my face, and my night-cap
hasn't any ruffle to it, and my flannin bed-gown
is anything but pretty; and it's so moonlight he
could see the difference without a bit of difficulty.  0 my! ain't that heavenly?  I must
peep through the curtain a little. Yes, it's himn 
1 knew it was! He's singing, now, and drummiing on his catarrh.  It's that sweet thing,
"Will you meet me by moonlight alone?" Oh,
I would gladly meet him, anywhere he said, that
was proper, and folks wouldn't talk about! I'd
meet him anyhow! I'd'run away with him, if
he'd only ask me. I'm going to tell him, next
time he comes, that I own this house and shop,
and have six hundred dollars in the Bank of
Lowell, and perhaps he'll ask me to elope with
him.'Won't the people of Pennyville be aston-.
ished when they wake up some morning and find
Alvira Slimlmens has had a real, genuine runaway wedding? Dearl dear! how I wish I
durst to raise the window, and throw him a
bunch of artificials, seeing I've no other bou



I52       MISS SLIM1MENS'S WINDOW.
quet. I wouldn't mind the expense.  I'm so
afraid he'll think I don't hear. Hark! them forward chits are oip, and are histing theirs-there!
they've thrown down something, and he kisses it
and puts it in his bosom. Of course, he thinks
1 threw it to him, and I'm glad they've done it;
but they deserve to be shet up in a closet for
their immodesty.  How gracefully he leans
against that post! He's the very picture of the
Apollo Bellevue., If he'd only stay long enough
for me to take down my hair and put in my
teeth, I'd answer him personally.  13ut he's
going; he pauses and looks back.  Does he
really want me to meet him in the grove at the
end of the vale? To-morrow night, I'll sleep in
my toilet, and then I'll be ready for anything
that may happen. Dear! dear! nobody can tell
what's going to happen, if they wait long
enough.




CIIAPTER IV.
MISS SLIMM3ENS MEETS WITH A VERY GREAT LOSS.
CLAIRA! Dora! come here both of you,
this very minute!  Where's nay teeth?
where's my teeth, I say?  You don't know?.
Yes, you do know, too-you, must!  They're
gone, and I can't find them anywhere in this
room. I jest took them out, a few minutes ago,
to brush'em, and stepped out in the back yard
for some water, and come in, and now they're
nowhere to be seen. You needn't tell me they
walk out of that tumbler without help. There's
been nobody within gunshot but you two, and
you're playing a trick on me. I'll have you
both arrested-I will-marched off to jail, and
kept on bread and water for a year. I'll swear
you took'em; for who else could? I'll go for
the sheriff, now, this minute. Why don't I go?
Yes, and meet Mr. Wiggleby at the very door,
58t




54         MISS SLIMMIENS S WINDOW.
perhaps. I-Ie was to be here at two o'clock, to
take me out a-riding, and it lacks but ten minutes of the hour, and here I am with my teeth
gone. A pretty figure I shall cut, in this plight.
Oh, girls, do help nme hunt!  Perhaps they've
dropped sornewhere, and I'm  so distracted I
can't see'em. Do your best, and the one that
finds'em shalll have a new silk dress, if she finds'emn before MIr. Wiggleby arrives. What's that?
The tumbler was standing close to the window,
and perhaps the cats got them, or some little boy
has come into the yard and took'em  for fien?
Oh-h-hl! perhaps! I never was in such misery
in my life. Them teeth cost me sixty dollars,
hard cash! and to lose them-lose them now, of
all times! I'd rather have lost my head. Hark!
wasn't that the sound of buggy-wheels?  Oh,
I'm so glad it wasn't! I shouldn't wonder if that
plaguy  Peter's boy, Jim, had been hangin'
around and seen'em; lie's up to all sorts of
deviltry. Run over there, Dora, and inquire.
Clara, have you searched under the bed? Dear!
dear! dear! the clock has struck two. Oh, my
teeth! my poor lost teeth!
WVimat's that? my tears are washing all my
paint off? Oh, you hedious girls! you'll be the




MISS SIiMMENS S WINDOWV.        55
death of me yet! IIow  can you have the heart
to make fun of nce when I'n in such trouble?
One thing is certain! if I ever do find out you've
/  /
had a hand in  this, I'll be revenged-yes,
revenlled.
There! there's the sound of a carriage stoppin,! Ie's knocking at the door! Oh, dear!
what shall I do? I'll throw myself on the bed,




56        MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.
and pretend to be sick. I cannot see him, much
as I want to; I look too frightful. Run, Clara,
tell him I've been taken suddenly very ill, but I
hope to be better by to-morrow, and will ride out
with him then.
IHas she gone, Dora? Oh, I dare not steal a
look! I must hide my face in the pillow to stifle
my groans.  What's that, Clara Brown? M. r.
Wiggleby regrets exceedingly his disappointment, but, since he has the carriage at the door,
would ask permission to take you out a little
while. You can't go, Clara; do you hear? If
the jade isn't actually tying on her bonnet, and
pretending not to hear! If I dared to step out
and tell her, but he's standing right there; and
I can't even forbid her. I'll bet a hundred dollars she heard me; and she'll have the impudence to say she didn't.
They've gone, and I've nothing to do but be
wretched.  Who knows what impression that
saucy girl may have a chance to make? And I
can't even go out to make good my loss. Oh,
rmy unhappy teeth!  Bless me, if they ain't
lying right here on the bed!  I believe I put'em there myself; or else them girls have been
playing me a trick. How I wish I could find




MISS SLIMIMENS'S WINDOW.       5?
out! I'd never forgive them to the lastest hour
of my existence.
They're a mile way by this time, and I can
set down to making.bunnits again, I suppose.
And this was to have been the happiest day of my
life! for I'm sure that I could have brought him to
a positive declaration. I could kill that Clara
Brown. The happiest day of my life, indeed!
I could tear things, I'm so imad!




CIHAPTER V.
SHE AGITATES THE QUESTION OF THE WEDDING
TROUSSEAU.
AIN! rain! rain!  Do see how it drips
down before the window, so a person can
hardly tell who is who, that goes by! though
there's not many people out this morning. I
don't believe I shall have a customer to-day. If
Mr. Wiggleby gets along, it'll be more than I
expect; though I do think he is the devotedest
of all the suitors I ever had. He's been perfectly intermittent in his attentions ever since I
was the means, under Providence, of savings his
life, and that's two weeks yesterday. I don't
think the most envious creature in Pennyville,
even Sally Meyers herself, can say now that I'm
counting my chickens before they're hatched.
If such civilities as MIr. Wiggleby has extended
to me ain't paramount to a declaration, then I
never received one. Six serenades, two buggy
K8




MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.        59
rides-besides the one I lost on account of mislaying my teeth —eight calls in the daytime and
twelve in the evening, walking home by my
side from church, in the presence of the whole
congregation-why, any jury in the land, that
had a spark of sentiment in its breast for the
feminine sex, who had a wife, or a mother, or a
daughter, or a sister whose heart it did not wish
wantonly trifled with, would give me damages,
in case Mr. Wiggleby should back out at this
hour. But I'd rather have him than five thousand dollars without him; and I don't think lihe
has the least idea of retreating. I think he
grows more arduous at every interview. IHe
squeezed my hand so respectfully, when he
lifted me out of the buggy yesterday. I looked
into his eyes to see if lie meant anything, and lie
gave me such a glance! I declare I could hardly
walk to the door without his assistance. What
expressive eyes he's got, as black as this piece of
crape and as bright as spangles, and such a pellt —
cid smile in them. What convinces me more than
anything else of the sincerity of his attentions is
the frankness with which he has told me all
about himself. It seems he came to Pennyville
to do some law business for his father, who owns




60        MISS SLIMMENS'  WINDOW.
property out here about six miles-lhe showed it
to me the last time we druv out together, and'twas there he was going that time when Smith's
baulky horse tllhrowed him out, and he was borne
into my shop, and recovered through my exertions-and he didn't expect to be retained more'n
three or four days when he came here, but business, you know, is so prognosticating.  I-e's
been unavoidably delayed, he assures me, by
occurrences which he didn't foresee. In short,
he's found attractions in Pcnnyville that lie had
no idea existed here, and he don't know when he
shall be able to tear himself away; he told ille
so himself. "Tear himself away," was the very
words he used, and his manner spoke columns.
Now, Clara 13rown, what's your face so red for?
and you're crumpling that lace all up, with your
carelessness. I never see a girl change as you
have the last two weeks; you seem not to know
whether you're standing on your head or your
feet, more'n half the time, and I've had to rip
out and do over full three-quarters of your
work. I'm thankful my trials in the apprentice
line are pretty much over; for you'd better
believe I'll shet up shop the day that I give up
the name of Slinmmens. I expect he'll build,




MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.       61
maybe, on his father's property, and I've imitated pretty plain to him that I should have nigh
on to a thousand dollars to help build and furnish the house with.
I want you girls to take hold and manage
things a little more-take some of the responsibility on your own shoulders. If you do well
and behave yourselves, there's no knowing but I
may be induced to rent you tle sliop, and let
you go along for yourselves.'Tennyrate, I
want you to take hold now, for I've got sewing
of my own to do; I've sewed for other folks
about long enough. I'm going to scallop the
collar and cuffs of that night-gown I'm nmaking,
and put tape-trimlming all around the edge; tleen
I've ruffles to hem for three new night-caps, and
some bands to stitch, and sew that knit lace on,
that I did last winter in the evenings; I've my
green silk to turn the skirt'of, and, as soon as I
can make ulp my mind what it shall be, I've
another dress to make-a party dress, you know
-lle! lihe! I can't decide which to choose;
-,whether to have a sweet white muslin, low in
the neck and tucked to the waste, with white
satin ribbin run in the tucks, and a sash of the
same, or to have a pearl-colored silk and wear




62        MISS SLIM3ENS'S WINDOW.
my bunnit.  It's such an important moment of
one's destination, it requires some reflection to
decide upon so momentary a question. The
bridal toilet is always the object of so much
excruciating remark.
There goes Josh Stebbins out in the rain, with
his umbrella over his head, and his wife following him to the door, to scold him for something
he's forgotten, I make no doubt, or to ask hilm
for something new, to make him draw down his
stingy old face.  I can see already that she's
going to be very extravagant. There's groceries
went into that house three times within a week,
and a paper that I know was sugar every time;
and they use three-quarters of a pound of butter
every day of their lives, for I asked old Mrs.
Grimes, that brings it to them, that day she was
in here to see about having new strings to her
black satin bunnit.. I hope the children are well
fed, since things must be wasted in such profusion. I don't believe the poor things are happy,
and I've my reasons for it. The other day, I see
little Jimmy standing out by the gate, looking
so forlorn, and crying as if his heart was breakilng; and I called him over, and gave him a cake
with carraway-seeds and a lump of sugar, and




MISS SLIMI3ENS'S WINDOW.     63
asked him what was the matter with him-if he
didn't like his new mother. You ought to have
seen that child eat that cake! he never answered
me till he'd swallowed it all down; and then he
said he was crying because he lost the pretty
new ball his mother made for him; but it's lly
opinion lie was crying from hunger, and nothing
else, though the poor little fellow didn't realize
what was the matter with him. I asked him how
he liked his new ma, and he said he liked her
twenty bushels; and I asked him if she told him
to say that, and that she'd shet him up in the
closet if he didn't, when people asked him, and
he acted as if he was afraid to tell me, but
stammered, "'ie guessed so-he didn't know;
his new ma had shet him up in the closet once
when he was very naughty."  My heart bled
for him. I spread him a thick slice of bread,
but he run off and wouldn't eat it. I've no
doubt his step-mother has forbid him to stay
anywhere long enough for the neighbors to find
out how things is going. If she keeps anything
that Alvira Slimmens doesn't worm out, either
one way or another, she'll be the first inhabitant
of Pennyville that's been deep enough to do it.
Oh my! wouldn't I like to catch the first glance




64        MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.
of Josh Stebbins' face, when he hears the
news!
Rain! rain! rain! rain! just a purpose to
keep MIr. Wiggleby away, and pervent Miss
Grant from comin' to settle for that hat. It'll
give my window a good washing, anyhow; and
it needed it bad enough. Run, Dora, and get a
towel, and tuck around the sash there where it's
beatin' in.
Well, for the land sake, if there isn't Jonathan
Grimes driving his ox-team in such a day as this!
He's worn that old straw hat now going on five
year.  See how the water drips off, and runs
down his back, and his long legs hanging down
into the mud, and that red fiannin shirt on! It's
a mercy I didn't have him, if he is worth three
thousand dollars, besides a part of the farm
when his father dies. Did you ever hear how
near we came to making a match, I and Jonathan?  Oh, dear, I shall expire with laughing
to think of it! It all came of that very old straw
hat.  You see, about those days, he used to
look pretty spruce; though his legs always was
rather long, and seemed to be in the way when
he was setting down, or dancing, or standing
still; though they was well enough in climbing




MISS SLIMIMENS S WINDOW.     65
fences and planting punkin-seeds; but he kept
fixed up right smart, for he was paying attention
to Joe Waters; and there was talk of their making a match. MIost people called Joe very handsome; though I never could see much beauty
about her, except her bright eyes, and her cheeks
as red as pinys.  In my opinion, she was rightdown bold-looking with that dimple in her chin,
and laughing whenever she got a chance. One
day, he come in my shop, and he had that hat
in his hand, which he had jest give two bushels
of wheat for; and he wanted me to put a green
silk lining in, and a good broad green ribbon
around it. So I asked him to take a seat while
I was doing the job; and he made.himself very
agreeable; and finally I laughed and said, said I,
"I suppose you'll have another person besides
Miss Slimmens to put the next lining in this hat
for ye, if report says true, Mlr. Grimes." And
he blushed like a beet, and hemmed, and said,
" he didn't know; he guessed not." And just
that minute, as luck would have it, Josephine
Waters appeared at the open door with a bunnit
in her hand, which she had brought for me" to
trim with white.  She looked kind of curious at
us to see Jonathan blushing and me laughing;




66        MISS SLIMMIENS S WINDOW.
and says I: " Oh, it's nothing, Joe! only I was
accusing Mr. Grimes of being engaged to a certain somebody, and he was denying of it, as if
everybody didn't know without being told. But
la! he needn't have got so mad about it, seeing
he's going to have the best-looking girl about
Pennyville. It's no insult to couple that name
with his'n, I reckon."
" I didn't know I got mad," said he; for he
was a kind of bashful chap, and hadn't spunk
enough to carry anything out.
"' Well, maybe you didn't," said I; and then,
to turn the subject, I asked him if he had heard
of the rise of property in Pennyville since the
railroad was talked of. "Why," said I, "'four
year ago I paid fifty dollars for this lot, and a
hundred and fifty for the shop; and now I
wouldn't take six hundred for'em. I've a
notion to draw my money from the bank, and
spec'late in real estate."
"If you do, you'll make a pretty fortinate
match for some man," said he, as he took his
hat, and waited for Joe to do her errand. I see
she begun to look grave, and her eyes flashed a
little, for Joe was as poor as Job's turkey; and
his folks had twitted her of it once or twice: but




MISS SLIMMENSS' WINDOW.      67
she told me what she wanted done to the bunnit,
and then told me, very polite, that her mother
was to have a quilting-bee to-morrow, and had
told her to be sure and ask me. Then I laughed
again, and said, "I'd be happy to attend, if I'd
any way of getting there; but, as it was, I didn't
see how I could, unless Mr. Grimes would volunteer to bring me in his father's new buggy;" and
of course he couldn't get out of it, and said:
" With the greatest willingness."  And the two
went away, looking daggers toward one another,
with me laughing in my sleeve.  I wanted to
plague'em, because I knew I was asked to the
bee because I was the fastest quilter in Pennyville; and I'd heard of Joe saying that I painted;
and I knew she stuck herself up on the strength
of her good looks.
The next day, I was rigged out in my best,
and the new buggy come to the door in grand
style; and I was in such a good humor, that I
got Jonathan to speaking out quite free, a thing
even Joe couldn't do; and we was chatting
away as merry as blackbirds when we drove up
to Widow Waters'. Joe came out to the gate to
show me in; and I spoke out just as she got
within hearing, and says I, "No, indeed, it's too




68         MISS SLIMMIENS S WINDOW.
late now to break with her," just as if I didn't
intend  she should hear.  Jonathan kind of
looked confused, but wasn't quick enough to
take, and let the matter slip. Joe got as white
as a sheet, but smiled, and made herself agreeable to me; while Mr. Grimes drove off to stay
away till tea-time. We quilted all the afternoon; and I saw  she felt bad, and couldn't
hardly make herself sociable with the visitors;
while I was talking and joking all the time.
During the evening, I stuck to her beau like a
bur to a woollen stocking, and flattered him up
so that his face shone like a punkin; and, when
we went off together after that dashing horse in
that new rockaway by moonlight, I knew that
Joe was just ready to burst out a-crying; but he
didn't, for she bid him good-night so gay, and
laughed so loud, that the fool thought she was
all right. It takes men a great while to learn
how a woman will
"Let congealment, like a worm in the mud,
Prey on her damaged cheek."
What happened after that, I don't know,
except that they kept up a coolness; and folks
said the match was broken off. Jonathan began




MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.       69
to call in at the shop occasionally; and I expect;
if I'd a had him, he'd have married me. But
his legs were too long; and he hadn't none of
that romantic air which MIr. Wiggleby possesses
in such an imminent degree. So one day, about
six months after, when he came in to get a new
ribbon, and said that he and Joe had made up,
and was going to be married in two weeks, I told
him "I thought they was a very good match,
though the girl,was poor, and her mother would
likely be a dependence on him; and, seeing her
heart was so set on him, I was glad Ihadn't give
him any more encouragement." I sent my most
formidable compliments to the bride that was to
be; and we've been on speaking terms ever
since; though I don't think Mrs. Grimes has any
love to spare.
They've got two young ones now; and I dare
say she finds a farmer's wife has more work'an.play; while I, thank goodness, am still an independent candidate.  There ain't a rag of her
wedding finery left; while Alvira Slimmens is
just indulging in the contemplation of what will
become her best. Which do you think, girlswhite muslin or pearl-colored silk? Dear me!
what a delectable delight it is to the feminine




70        MISS SLIMIENS'S WINDOW.
sex to be engaged in deciding upon their bridal
tournure! White muslin and a veil, or pearcolored silk and a bonnet? What a diploma to
be in! Come, girls, say which you think will
become my style best.
~..~..




CHAPTER -VI.
THE WINDOW IS CURTAINED (FIGURATIVELY) WITH
CREAPE.
T  EN o'clock in the morning, and those girls
L  not here yet! - This is the last time I let
that Clara go home with Dora to sleep. I
wouldn't have let'em gone last night, but I
expected Mr. Wiggleby was waiting for a chance
to ask me to name the day; and if he'd wanted
to stay and set up late, I didn't want them apeeking through the keyhole.  3My plan was a
complete failure, for he never come near me.
Here I sot, fixed up to kill, till after ten o'clock,
my heart vacillating wildly at every sound,'and
never a knock from nobody but them pestering
Peterses, wanting to know if I had ally peppermint, for the baby had the colic, as if I might
be expected to keep baby-fixin's on hand!
They'll be coming over to borrow "BMother's
Relief," next; and now I feel as cross as a bear.
71




72     m  MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
I'm tormented to know what kept him away; I
never did feel so uneasy before, in all my experience. I shouldn't like to let anybody but him
know how I have seat my affections on that man.
I've wanted to marry bad enough, though I've
made a pint of pretending not to; but I haven't
been really in love before, for years and years.
The very squeak of his patent-leather boots, as
he comes along the sidewalk, sets the blood a-flying into my face, and when he gets to the door,
and smiles, and bows, and says, " Good morning,
Mliss Slimmens!" in that irreparable way of his,
my sensations are inexpressible; actually, I
haven't the strength, sometimes, to offer him a
chair. He's my beau-ideal of a beautiful man.
If he wasn't worth a cent, but was some nameless adventurer, or belonged to a band of fierce
bandanas, or was a political exile with a price
set on his head, or an unfortunate patriarch
obliged to flee from his ancestral halls, it wouldn't
make a bit of difference; there's something in
the quirl of his moustache and the bituminous
depths of his dark eyes that the soul of a romantic being of the softer sex cannot resist.  I'd
rather be his wife, and carry on the millinary
business forever, than any of these Pennyville




MISS SLIM3MENS'S WINDOW.     73
v naps, and roll in luxury, and never be obliged
to set a stich nor look at a fashionable plate.
Oh-h my! what a sigh that was! it come right
up out of the pit of my stomach.  I should so
like to know what kept him away last night. I
laid awake two hours, by the clock, thinking
how I wished I wasn't more'n twenty or twentytwo, and had my own teeth and hair back again,
and was a Mexican heiress, riding on a steed
through a mountain pass, with only one servant
for a protector, and a band of bandanas should
rush out of a cave and seize me, and I'd struggle and pretend to want to get away, but should
be overpowered, and my servant tied to a tree,
and I shouldn't be able to help myself, but
should be carried off in their arms into the interior of the cave, and should open my eyes, after
fainting away in a graceful position, to find
myself in a splendid chamber full of silver, and
gold, and jewels, robbed from travellers, and find
the chief of the bandanas kneeling before me,
insuring me that if I would accept his heart and
hand and mmry him, I should come to no harm,
and when I lifted my eyes to his face, behold it
was Mr. Wiggleby, and I was impelled to wed
him, whether or no!
4




MISS SLMSIENS S WINDOW.
I declare it makes me sick, to get up this
morning and find this same old shop, and these
same old bunnits, and my old sign a-swinging
out there in the wind, after such a beautiful
revelry.  The millinary business was never
intended for my destination, I'm convinced of
that.  If Air. Wiggleby should come in here
this hour and ask me to elope with him, I'd
pack up my duds, draw my money from the
bank, and do it. I do wish he'd come to terms,
if he's a-going to.  I feel that I've no time to
spare, and I'm mighty uneasy about losing him;
there isn't a girl in the village but would jump
at the chance of becoming Mrs. Wiggleby. I've
told him, point-blank, that I was worth three
times what I am, for I knew it would be the only
way to keep him, when there was plenty of
"sweet seventeens" a-sighing for him. But I
wish he'd come to terms! If there's anybody in
the world that has had reason to realize that a
" bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,"
it's me; and I wish Mr. WViggleby was safe in
my hand. I feel an unaccountable sinking of
the spirits this morning.
Them girls aren't in sight yet. They won't
find me in the best of humor; they'll have to




MISS SLIM3IMENS S WINDOW.    75
have a better excuse than there's any danger of;
if they escape my wrath this time.  Half-past
ten of a Monday, and they not here to begin
work!  Such conduct is unprecedental!  The
nearer they come to being of age, the more
liberties they take.  If I ever need their services, it's now.  There's them eight Leghorns
and t]hree Dunstables to be hung in the bleachbarrel, and that bunnit I didn't get done Saturday, on account of going out a-riding with Mr.
Wiggleby, to be sent home, and them children's
flats to be lined and trimmed to-day, and I
wanted to set down peaceably to my own sewing.
The tape work isn't sewed on to that night-gown
yet, and there's no telling how soon it'll be
required. If he would happen along to apologize for not coming to keep Sunday night, I
shouldn't mnind their tardiness so much; but he
isn't coming. I've looked up and down till my
eyes ache, and that's all the good it's done.
I think that girl Clara has got altogether more
vanity and pride than's good for her.'What
does she do but buy one of my prettiest white
bunnits-a velvet one, with a plume-Saturday
night, and pay for it out of her own purse. I
didn't know she had saved up so much. She's




7is6      MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
set her cap for somebody, or she wouldn't have
been guilty of such extravagance. I told her
plairly I didn't think a velvit bunnit would be
very suitable to her condition, and she said if
she earned it and could pay for it, she didn't
know who had a right to interfere; and then
she tried it on and looked in the glass, and asked
Dora if it wasn't sweet. I knew she was thinking all the time that a pretty bunnit made a certain pretty face look handsomer still; and when
somebody knocked and Mlr. Wiggleby walked
in, I could have scratched her eyes out, she turned to him so saucy, with her cheeks all in a glow,
and asked him how he liked her selection. She
did look outrageously handsome just then; and
I was on nettles till I'd thought of a way of
taking her down by asking her how many weeks'
wages, at seventy-five cents a week, it would
take for a vain girl to buy a nine-dollar bunnit,
and that I' thought it would be very correspondent with a certain colored merino shawl.'Leven o'clock!  Well, this beats all! I'll
put on my bunnit and go after them stay-aways
in less than five minutes; and I'll tell Dora's
mother if she doesn't keep'em in better order,
she needn't expect I'll do any more for'em.




MISS SLIM]MENS'S WINDOW.       77
That's Dora now —no, it isn't-yes, it is; Dora
Adams coming along alone, as slow as if she
was marching to a funeral, and not a sign to be
seen of Clara. -I wonder what's that she's got in
her hand, wrapped up in paper; and how she
dares to take her time in this manner.
So, miss, you've got along, have you? Of
course, you've an excellent excuse, something
entirely satisfactory, for staying away till this
hour, and putting the work back of a Monday
morning.  Where's Clara?  Sick, I suppose,
with cutting up of a Sabbath evening. What's
that?  You needn't stammer so, Dora Adams!
You ain't stammering? 1Well, speak out, then.
WHAT?? "Clara was married to lMr. FYiggleby
at nine o'clock this nmorning, and hopes you'll
forgive her for not finishing out her time, as her
husbandc is willing to make it all r.ight if there's
any damages, and she sends her card and a piece
of the wedding-cake, with their compliments!"
No, I never will forgive her-you know I never
will, Dora Adams!  Throw that wedding-cake
out in the street-throw it out, I say!-and that
card. I'll sue'em both for damages! i'11 sue
her for her time, and him for a breach of promise.  I'll break'em up and ruin'em, that I




78        MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
will! the deceitful, ungrateful, sly, tricky —hardhearted - mendacious - outrageous-creatures!
Hand me the camphire, qpick!  I'm swooningoo-oon-ooning! The cam-phire!
Yes, I'm better now! Stand off! don't go to fussing over me with your pretence of being sorry!
You've aided and abetted in this wicked conspiracy! I see it all now! No wonder I was
overcome at the ingratitude of that serpent that
I've nourished in my bosom, as it were, for the
last three years! treated her as if she was my
own sister, learnt her how to trim and do up
bunnits in the best style, fitted her out to get her
own living, and now she's rewarded my care and
trouble by going off and getting married without so much as even asking my advice, and she
with no mother to advise her, the bold, indelicate thing! to a perfect stranger, too.  Flown
from the protecting influences of my shop into
the arms of a man! gone off with one of the
male sex that she hasn't known over six weeks!
How does she know but what he's got two or
three wives already-but that he's a Brigham
Young in disguise  I hope he is. I hope and
trust she'll get come up with for her undecent
behavior.




MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.      79
"You don't know as it's anything so unpardonable for a girl to get married, especially a
poor girl, when she has a good chance " No
doubt you'd like to try the experiment yourself.
How do you, or she, or anybody know that DMr.
Wiggleby is a good chance?  IHow do you
knlow but what he's a runaway forger-I see one
advertised not a month ago-or a gambler, or a
contraband malefactor'" Your mother wrote and ascertained all about
him-that he was a most excellent young man?"
Pretty business for a -mother to be in! get up
matches for other people! If she's upheld Clara
Brown in this step to deceive and defraud me,
do you go home to her, and tell her I've seen
enough of you. Never do you darken my doors
again, Dora Adams! I've had enough of prentice-girls bringing disgrace on my shop. There!
you needn't flash up in that style! Isn't it a
disgrace $to have a young girl running off, and
eloping with a stranger from the roof that sheltered her and the. shop that learned her to bleach
and trim, and the woman that took her in when
she was a parentless orphan, with neither father
nor mother? What's that?  "I did take her in
more ways than one!"  Clear out, I say  go




80        MIISS SIMMENS'S WINDOW.
home to your mother, and run away with the
first counterfitter that comes along. I thank
Heaven I've kept out of such scrapes, if I have
had my own way to make in the world! Go
along with you! you needn't stop to look for
your thimble. I'll send it home on a dray to your
ladyship-hire a horse and cart a purpose. Go
along, I say, and take in washing for a living, as
your mother had to, before you came to me to
eat and drink at my expense, and learn the trade
of the best milliner in Pennyville. Not a word!
I won't listen!
She's gone, and I'm " alone with my grief."
Oh, Alvira, Alvira Slimmens! you built your
house upon a sandy foundation, and now it's
tumbled down, and buried your heart in its
ruins. Didn't I scy a bird in the hand was
worth two in the bush? as I've proved to my
own satisfaction long ago. I'll never forgive
them! 11ll ruin them, if it's in my lUwer! I'll
sue him for five thousand dollars, and bring his
own wife in to prove his perjury. His wife!
Oh, Wiggleby! Wiggleby! I allowed myself to
lie awake, and dream that that term of endearment would be applied to me. I can't be so mad
at you as I want to be. I ain't half so mad at




MISS SLIMMENS'S A.'INDOW.           81
you as I was at Joshua Stebbins; but I feel a
good deal worse.  I may jest as well give up,
and be an old maid, and done with it. I'll
never put my hair in papers again; and, if I
didn't need'em to eat with, I believe I'd sell my
teeth. Crying?  Yes, the tears is literarily
washing the paint all into streaks on my cheeks;
and I stand here before the glass, and see it, and
don't care a straw. I never felt so completely
used up before.   I'm  worse off than the old
woman that was "' cutting and contriving all day
to get a nightcap out of a sheet." I've been
cutting and contriving for twenty odd years to
get a husband, and I hain't got one yet; and the
material is all used up; and this last is the
unkindest cut of all.
"Oh, ever thus, from childhood's hour,
I've seen my fondest hopes decay!
I never loved a tree or flower,
But'twas the first to fade away;
I never nursed a nice young man
That from a runaway buggy fell,
Binding his wounds as a woman can,
But left, as soon as he got well."
I'll shet and lock the door! There shan't a
customer get in this day! I'll lock the door and
4*




82        MISS SLIMMENS S WVINDOW.
put down the curtain before the window, and
take off my back-braid, and take out my teeth,
and unlace my corset, and hang up my hoop, and
go in my bedroom, and have a good comfortable
cry!




CHAPTER VII.
JOSH STEBBINS S WIFE'S FIRST TEA-PARTY.
I OOD-MORNING, Miss Peters; glad to see
you out again, after your ninth. Take a
chair and rest yourself. Let's see! it's nigh on
to seven weeks old, ain't it? and this is the first
time you've been in to see a neighbor. You've
had sickness, and been pretty low this time. All
I can say is, it's a mercy you ain't in your coffin,
and Peters looking around for some woman to
take care of his orphans. Thank'ee, I don't feel
at all well. I've had trouble o' mind lately;
them'prentices of mine behaved so shamelessly,
and I've had other.troubles besides. There's
nothing brings the wrinkles so quick as trepidations. of the mind, Miss Peters. I shouldn't wonder if I looked as much as thirty years old, since
Clara Browne played me that trick. I hadn't
any heart to fix up any for several days, and I
88




84        mISS SLIsIMIENS S   WINDOW.
don't know what would have stirred me up to
pick up my crumbs, but that invitation to a teaparty to Mliss Stebbins's. I expected to see you
there, as much as could be. Wasn't invited? Is
it possible?  There hasn't been no trouble, has
there? I suppose it's because you've been sick
ever since she come, and haven't called on her;
but I don't think sh'd any business to be so particular, when she must a known it was because
you wasn't able. She comes from  a smaller
town than Pennyville, and it don't become her
to put on airs.
Well, I didn't feel like going out into company
much, but I thought I'd go jest out of curiosity,
to see what'was to be seen; and la! I haven't
been so amused in a long time. I believe I've
always been considered as of an observatory disposition; I went a purpose to use my eyes and
ears, and I used'em. There's queer people in
Pennyville, Miss Peters, very queer people; and
anybody that's made a study of physiology, as I
have, is apt to discover the peculiarities of their
acquaintances. I felt myself very much improved by my visit; had several of my favorite
theries conformed in -an astonishing manner,
especially my  thery of oilyfactories —them's




MISS SLIMIMENS S WINDOW.       85
noses, I suppose you're aware-which I learned
out of that.ighly useful and progressive paper,
the " Laws of Life." This is an age of very progressive progress, BMiss Peters, and I'm glad, for
one, to have been permitted to exist during its
continuance. Don't you find it so?  Science
are making gigantic strides toward some fulminating point of glory; physiognomy and electricity are running a race, to see which shall first
reach the jail; the magnetical telegraph is
stretching itself, like a boa-restricter, " across the
bosom  of the vasty deep;" and the comet is
waving its flashing tail for hundreds and hundreds of miles in the hemisphere, giving astronomers an unparallaxed chance for stereoscopic
views. But excuse me, Miss Peters; I didn't
intend to touch upon these extended toptics when
I began-my  enthusiastic nature frequently
makes me aggressive-and I'll come to the teaparty directly.
Well, I fixed up in my best, for one or two
reasons of my own, principally to let Miss Stebbins see that Pennyville wasn't behind Salem
Four-Corners in the fashions. I put four yards
of the stiffest kind of bunnit-wire around the bottom of my hoop-petticoat, and put on six of the




86        MISS SLIMMIENS'S WINDOW.
"Laws of Life," gathered on a string, for a bustle,
and I guess when I got there I took up about as
much room as anybody. All the visitors admired
my head-dress so much! I must show it to you.
Isn't it sweet? There's a whole piece of narrow
pink ribbon in it, besides the lace and artificials,
and'I was a whole evening putting it together.
Well, I went early, to see everybody come in,
which is half the fun of going to meeting or to a
party. There was nobody arrived previous to
me, except old Miss Grant, and she always goes
at one o'clock ill the afternoon. Miss Stebbinshave you seen her? she's a little thing, with a
face like an apple and a form like a dumpling,
no shape to her, no style-was dressed in a brown
silk gownd, that I'll bet anything had been
turned, and linen collar and undersleeves, to
make people think she's equinomical, when the
whole town knows she is spending Stebbins's
hard earnings like water. Why, I could tell, the
first time I seen her, the moment I looked at her
oilyfactories-kinder broad and not exactly
turned up, but just a-going to be-that she
couldn't calkilate the difference between skim
milk and.cream. Stebbins's first wife used to
make all her own butter, with that cow of theirs,




MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.        87
and this un buys six pound a week, and gives
the children the top of the milk for their dinners.
Them children are fatting up beyond bounds,
and'11 all look like their stepmother before
spring. I wonder how she persuades hkim to let
her go on so-he used to keep his first wife
under his thumb till she didn't know whether
her soul was her own or his'n. She nmust do it
by coaxing, for nobody could ever drive Stebbins; and I think a woman that'11 coax a male
creature that calls himself a man is in small
business; I wouldn't make a fool of any of the
selfish sex, by patting and petting him like a
great baby.
As I said, there was nobody but old Miss
Grant there when I arrived. 2Miss Stebbins was
as pleasant as a basket of chips, said she believed
Miiss Slimmens and her husband were old friends,
and she hoped I'd be as friendly with her; then,
after we'd chatted a few minutes, she begged to
be excused, saying she guessed she'd have time
to mix her biscuits before anybody else come,
and then'twould be off her mind. I was just
aching for a chance to get in her kitchen, to
see how it looked; so I jumped up and said I
wouldn't excuse her, but, if she'd excuse me, I'd




88        MISS SLIMMIENS'S WINDOW.
keep her company; so we left old Miss Grant to
her knitting, and I followed her into the pantry.
Sich a kitchen and cupboard as that was! To
be sure, it wasn't exactly dirty, but things wasn't
in the order they used to be, and I wondered if
they didn't ache to get back in the nice rows
they used to be kept in. I never see any one
with that kind of a nose that can know the
meaning of the word order. But I will say there
was plenty of nice victuals on the shelf, all
dished, and ready to go on the table. I offered
to. set the table, while she was a-mixing up her
biscuits, so as to get a good chance to peek
around. I thought she didn't seem exactly willing, but she thanked me very polite, and couldn't
refuse.
" It's something of a knack to make nice sodabiscuits," said I, as I set the honey and peachpreserves on the table.
" It is, indeed," said she; " it was a long time
before I could get'emr to suit; but now, if there's
anything I pride myself on, in the cooking line,
it's soda-biscuits," said she. "I scarce ever make
a mistake. Mr. Stebbins is very fond of'em
with honey."
"You might pride yourself on all your cook



MISS SLIAMMENSS I WINDOW.      89
ing, so far as that goes," says I, as I placed a
beautiful pound-cake beside the preserves.
Jest then then there was a rap at the front
door. Mliss Stebbins had measured out her flour,
her shortnin', and her milk, had mixed the cream
tartar in the flour, and put the soda in the milk.
" I'll have to wait before I make up the dough
and roll it out," said she, " till it's time to put'em
in the oven."'  And taking off her check apron,
she told amle to leave the rest of the table and
come along and see who it was.
But I managed to stay behind a minute, putting the cheese on a plate, for an idea had come
in my head to play her a little trick. If you'll
promise on your word and honor, as true as you
live and breathe, and keep the breath of life,
not to betray me to nobody, Miss Peters, I'll tell
you what I done, for the joke is too good to
keep. I didn't do it out of any bad feeling, but
just for the fan of the thing, you know; I
always was fond of a practical joke, when
nobody was really hurt. Of course, I couldn't
have a spiteful feeling against Miss Stebbins, for
she never did me any harm; and as I saw she
had plenty of good light bread, I thought I'd
take down her pride a little; so I jest stole into




90         MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
the pantry quick as a cat, and put an extra
spoonful of soda in her milk, and was back in
the setting-room in time to see Parson Higgins's
wife come in, in that everlasting old purple silk
of hers. She's smarted it up with new trimming
-black velvet around the sleeves and cape. I
always do notice her nose, but I noticed it then
more than ever; it seems to get longer and
sharper every time I look at it; just the kind
that's always poking itself into other people's business-a thing, of all things, that I hate and despise! I have my faults, like other folks, but I
thank goodness that's not one of them! It's been
a mystery to me how Parson Higgins, meek as
he is, has been able to sustain his place so long
with a wife with them kind of oilyfactories; but
I suppose its useful in sewing-circles and missionary meetings. It's a very efficient kind of
a nose, if it isn't one of the handsome sort;
them kind can turn out a great deal of work,
and that's what's most wanted in a minister's
wife. She and I never did agree very well, and
since I've sent all my scraps of silk and satin to
the other society, for pin-cushions, she's been as
cool as a cucumber. We were uncommonly
civil to each other, which is generally a. sure




MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.       91
sign that folks don't feel like hugging and kissing each other from love. Human nature is
awful depraved, ]Miss Peters, and when two
women is so dreadfully polite, it's a pretty sure
symptom that there's some kind of hypercriticism going on behind it. We had scarcely got
done paying our compliments and manifesting an
interest in each other's health, when the rest of
the company began to arrive pretty thick. Them
two twin peas, Philista and Philistina Podd,
made their appearance simultaneously together,
as usual, both smiling like two cabbage-roses,
both with red merino dresses on, both with black
ribbons around their necks, pinned with cameo
pins, both with two little water-curls on their
cheeks, and black velvet streamers flying down
their backs, and both said, "HIow do you do,
Miss Stebbins?" in the same voice, at the same
time, and both made a curchy at the same
minute, and sat down together on the sofa. I
don't believe it would be bigotry for one man to
marry both them girls, for both of'em together
don't know as much as one ought to, and I defy
Miss Sharp's spectacles to tell'em apart. I may
have my faults, but being like anybody else
aint one of'em, thank goodness! I don't inti



92         MISS SLIMMIENS S WINDOW.
mate, and I can't be intimidated. Then there
was Squire WValdon's wife, as fat and good-natured as ever, with her ribbons a-flying out like
rainbows, and her face as red and as broad as
the setting sun. She went round and shook
hands with everybody, one at a time, asking'em
how their ma, and pa, and little brother, and
darling sister was, and was so sorry when she
heard anybody was sick, and gave so many
directions about what they must do to get well,
and was so intensely interested in Emeline Jane's
cough, telling her to come round to-morrow and
she'd give her a bottle of cherry pectoral, or
some other stuff, and regretted so much to hear
that Sally Thomas's grandfather had the rheumatism, and finally sat down by that tejus old Mliss
Grant, and got her to tell over all her ailments,
from the sprain'she got in her ankle, last winter,
slipping on the ice, to the loss of appetite that
had afflicted her since yesterday, till I was disgusted.  Miss Waldon is a good soul as ever
lived; the only trouble is, she's too good. She
lets people lead her wherever they've a mind to;
she gets imposed on, every day of her life, by
somebody. I don't believe she ever turned a
beggar away since she was a housekeeper, no




MISS SLIIMENS'S WINDOW.        93
matter how much of a flagrant he might be,
without giving him something; and she believes
everything that's told her, unless it's something
bad about somebody.  Every sick person in
Pennyville, you'd think, was some relation of
hers, she way she nurtures and sticks by them.
As I said before, she's too good; it's tiresome to
see a person so everlastingly good-natured. She
has no discrimination; I can't respect a woman
that's eternally getting taken in by every kind
of a compositor. I've no doubt I've my failings,
but lack of discrimination, I flatter myself, isn't
one of'em; her worst enemy can't accuse Alvira
Slimmens of being easily made a fool of.
Did you ever see anybody dress in such hidjus
taste as Miss Barker? I could hardly keep from
holding up my hands when she came in, that
afternoon! She'd made an extra effort to look
fine, because Joe Taylor was expected in during
the evening, to see the girls home, and she's set
her cap for him in good earnest. Sich taste!
you'd a died a-laughing when she made hei
depot into the room.
"She wore a wreath o' roses
On the night when first we met."
She had a wreath of silver artificials all around




94        MISS SLIMMEN S'S WINDOW.
her head, tied behind with a long blue ribbon.
She's dreadful dark-complected, and blue's terrible unbecoming to her. You know how short
and squatty she is? Well, she had on a hoop as
big as mine, and a pea-green silk dress, that was
high in the neck, with a lace ruffle, making her
look like a choked chicken around her throat;
then she had orange-colored bows, all up and
down the front, and a sash of the same, and her
undersleeves was trimmed with red. She seemed




MISS SLIMMIENS'S WINDOW.       95
as if she'd tried to see how humbly she could
make herself look. If I had such outlandish
taste as that, I'd commit death by suicide within
a week.
]3ut of all the creatures, I think the Widow
Wilson bears away the palm-leaf!  All she
thinks of is getting married again, I know, jest
as well as if I could see through her. Poor
Wilson has only been in his grave three years,
and a more devoted husband I never see than
he was; his soul seemed sot on that young
thing, that was nothing but a child at the best,
and uncapable of depreciating his affection as it
ought to be. I believe it was sinful for him to
think so much of her —the reason he was taken
away. A-ll he lived for was L"his Lizzie;" she
used to set on his knee like an overgrown baby,
with her white frocks on and her curls crisping
around her neck; and now that he's gone and
left her with plenty of property and everything
to be comfortable with, she must go to casting
reproach on his grave bylooking out for another
companion.   What's that?    "      You've never
seen her scarcely look up since his death, and
out nowhere but to meeting?"  You've thought
her a poor, heart-broken little thing?  Well, if




96        MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
you'd seen her day before yesterday, to the teaparty, you'd have altered your opinion.  She
come in as demure as a kitten, with her black
frock, that she keeps on a purpose to contrast
with her white neck, and sot down by the minister's wife, and had hardly a word to say to u8s,
but when the men begun to come in, just before
supper, she brightened up like a sun after a
shower. What do you think she done? Jest as
I'd got up to go and set by Mr. Hartly, the
gentleman who's come as a partner in Squire
Waldon's law-office, she flirted out of her seat
on the other side of the room, and went and set
down by his side, on the sofa, and commenced
sich a close conversation with him, that none of
us could get in a word edgewise; though he
wanted to, bad enough, for he's an old bachelor
of very agreeable manners, and, they say, the
intellectualist person in Pennyville-that is, of
the male sex. I'd just made up my mind to
interrupt her, and give Mr. iartly a chance to
see there was some persons full as intelligent as
]Miss Wilson in our village, when Miss Stebbins
come to the door to say that tea was readyshe'd been out the last half hour a preparing it.
I saw she looked worried, and I surmised the




MISS SLIMMENSS' WINDOW.        97
reason.  Mr. Stebbins seemed surprised at the
flustered look on her face, which had been so
mighty pleasant before she went out i but when
we all filed into the dining-room and took our
places at the table, and he lifted the plate of
biscuits to pass'em around, the mystery was
explained. He looked at her so inquiring and
mortified-like, that I thought she would burst
right out a-crying, for, you see, this was her
first attempt at entertaining company, and she's
a childish thing, anyhow.  Such biscuits you
never saw! as green as grass in streaks, and
smelling of saleratus qnough to drive a person
out of the room. " I don't see how I come to
make such a mistake," said she, in a distressed
voice; " I never did before. The company will
have to make out on bread, for they cannot eat
my biscuits, I'm afraid."
" Young housekeepers is liable to mistakes,"
said Miss Waldon, soothingly, " and your bread
is excellent, good enough for the queen; so don't
fret a minute about your failure, Miss Stebbins —
pray, don't!"
" She's always hit it to a T, before," said Stebbins, oneasily.
"I guess it was because I tried too hard," said
5S




98        MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.
his wife, trying to smile; " still, I can't account
for it. I'm positive the measure was correct."
"'Tain't worth speaking about, Mliss Stebbins," said I, ready to burst with laughing,
secretly, to see her pitiful face. " We've all eat
worse many a time, and anybody that can't
make out a meal on what you've sot before'em
ought to go hungry. I suppose you find Joshua
a little particular, on account of having such a
superior cook for his first wife; but' time works
wonders,' and I've no doubt you'll make out
very well after a while."
I'm afraid she'll find me rather a sorry comforter, for she didn't really rally the whole of
the rest of the evening; but as for me, I was in
excellent spirits at the success of my innocent
little joke, especially as I had a seat next to Mir.
Hartly, and kept by him pretty much of the
time after we left the table. I'd made up my
mind to impel him to see me home, just to spite
that Widow Wilson-not that I cared anything
about him, for this was the first of our acquaintance-but the forward thing got the start of me,
and carried him off before my eyes. It takes
them  widows to come around the men.  A
young lady like myself would be ashamed to




MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.       99
practise sich arts as they resort to. I'm not
perfect, no more'n some others, but hypocrisy
and artifice isn't one of my faults, thank gracious! I do think a designing widow one of the
most shameless of the female sex.
What! must you be going? I'm real sorry
you wasn't to the party; Miss Stebbins ought to
have invited you, though I suppose you couldn't
have gone if she had. Do bring that sweet
little darling of yours over with you, the next
time you come! I dote on babies, especially on
your'n, Miss Peters, they're all such little loves!




CHAPTETR VIII.
AN; ARGOS-EYED " SPIDER WEAVES A WTEB FOR A
FLY.
T  HERE goes Lizzie W'ilson, stealing by in
her deep mourning; you'd think her face
was as melancholy as her garments, if you didn't
see it all in a glow, like a young girl's. I wonder where she can be going this forenoon, so
early! into Martin's store, I'll bet, to buy something pretty to set off her face. Like as not,
she's going to put on second mourning, to imitate
to a certain person that she doesn't feel so
-afflicted as she did a while ago. No! she's gone
by the store; and now-yes, as sure I'm here,
peeking through this curtain, she's gone into
Squire Waldon's office. Well, if that isn't carrying matters on pretty boldly, I wouldn't say so!
What a blessing it is my window looks up and
down the street so far, and over lhat other road
100




MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.       101
that crosses it, too. I should miss some rich
sights, if it wasn't for this window. Squire WValdon isn't in his office, for I see him drive away
in his buggy half an hour ago. Of course she'll
come right out, when she finds he ain't there;
for any woman must know it would be highly
improper for her to remain alone with an unmarried man in his office, even on businesswhich it isn't likely she has any. I'll bet anything slie knew the squire was out, and took this
opportunity to visit MIr. Itartly alone. I'm going
to set here with my work and keep watch how
long she stays. It's half-past nine now by the
clock. I feel so ugly since Clara Brown went
away, I'm just aching to give somebody Jessie!
Speaking of Clara, I expect it would be policy
in me to tell Dora Adams she can come back to
the shop. I hear she's promised to go to Mliss
Fudge's, and if I make an enemy of her, she
may tell some things I'd rather have kept.'Tennyrate, I don't want her to go over to Mliss
Fudge's side! that woman has been trying to
get start of me, ever since she come to Pennyville and set up her opposition to an old-established shop like mine. Dora must be kept away
from her; I'll go over to her mother's this even



102        MISS SLIMMENS' S WINDOW.
ing, and tell'em I've made up my mind to forgive and forget the past, and do the best I can
by her, if she'll be as good a girl as she used to
be. Dora's such an easy-tempered little thing,
she'll come back in a minute; and I must say
she's better taste than anybody in this village,
myself excepting. I find it quite too hard, getting along without her handy fingers; besides, I
don't feel so mad at her as I did before I made
the acquaintance of Mr. iartly. Perhaps it's all
for the best that' Mr. Wiggleby fell in love with
Clara Brown. Goodness alive! there he is now!
MAy heart is right up in my mouth! It's the
first time I've sot eyes on him since he came
back from his bridal tower. He is a handsome
man, that's undeniable; but he's not so much
dignity as Mr. Ilartly, and I don't feel never so
much overcome as I thought I should.
Ten minutes by the clock, and Widow Wilson
hasn't stirred out of that office yet! She must hatv
set down to a regular flirtation, for any ordinary
business could have been enacted in less time
than that. HIere. comes Mliss Belden after her
cap-border. I hope she won't stay long, for I
don't care to lose sight of that office-door. I'm
bound to see who submerges from it, and when!




MIISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.    103
Good morning, Mliss Belden! Come for your
cap-border? I've got it all ready pinned up in
paper; it's only fifty cents. I'm in an awful
hurry this morning; never was in such a flurry
in my life! Both my'prentices is gone, you
know, and I've everything to do myself right in
the busiest season of the year. You'll excuse
my talking much, for when my fingers flies so
fast I must keep my mouth shet. I've seven
orders fo finish by Saturday night. Don't go!
you can set as long as you like, if you'll excuse
my keeping on with my work. Well, if you
must, you must, I suppose. Good bye. Run in
again, soon.
A good riddance! Seventeen minutes by the
clock! Aha, Widow Wilson! you don't guess
who's keeping an eye on your proceedings! You
think your widow's weeds are going to give you
impunity from remark, when they're all the more
reason why a woman should deport herself dis-'
creetly.
Twenty minutes! I'm  perfectly scandalized
by such conduct!
Twenty-three minutes, and no signs of that
black dress intruding itself from that door yet!
Twenty-seven minutes by the clock!




10:        MISS SLIMIIENS S WINDOW.
Thirty minutes, and there she comes! Now,
if ally one can explain what business could keep
an unprotected female, and a widow, a full halfhour in a lawyer's office, all alone with an unmlarried man, they may do it to their own satisfaction, but they can't to mine!  I'm  fur from
being of a suspicious disposition-I never believe
anything bad of anybody till it's proved-but
what a person sees with their own eyes, and
counts by the clock, they are excusable for
believing. Here she comes! tripping by with a
face as innocent as the day. That face might
deceive an angel of light, but it can't Alvira
Slimmens. Now I don't really think there's anything wrong between her and Ilr. Iartly, but
she's trying to catch him, and has invented some
excuse for going to see the squire, to get a chance
to make an impression, and that's as great a
crime in my eyes as any she could be guilty of.
She's had one husband, and now she'd better
stand back and let other folks have their chance!
I won't put up with her interference. She'll hear
of this adventure before a week is out; I'll bet
my head oil that. Some people in Pennyville
have found out before this there's a pair of
Argos eyes in it that can see in more directions




MISS SLIAMENS'S WMNDOW.       105
than one; and if a married woman and a widow
cannot exercise any more prudence than she has,
she must suffer the consequences; I shan't hold
myself responsible.
Here comes Mlehitable Green. She's the
sharpest nose in the village; it always gets into
my shop some time before its owner is visible.
As Campbell's Minstrels says: " Coming events
cast their shadows before," and I'm awful afraid,
always, when she's in here, that she'll knock
down some of my fancy articles with that prognostic of her'n. It's better at scenting out a precious piece of scandal than a pig's snout is at
rooting out chestnuts.  I'll put a flea in her;ear before she gets through with her visit, that'll
do the business for Widow WVilson; and that
without running any particular risk myself.
La! MIiehitable Green, is that you 2 Come
right in, do! You're the very person, of all my
friends and acquaintances, I was the most wishing to see. I've been so busy lately, I've had no
chance to hear the news, and of course you can
post me all up about Pennyville sayings and
doings. Sich a favorite as you be in the community must know pretty much all that's a-stir5*




106       MIISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
ring.  Set down, and we'll have a good, oldfashioned chat.
By the by, did you meet Aiss WVilson just
before you got here?  She just passed by here
on her way from Squire Waldon's office. The
squire has gone to the country; so I suppose she
and Mir. IIartly must have had a nice, quiet
visit, seeing she stayed the bigger part of the
forenoon with him. I-ey?  Oh, I don't know;
btusizess, of course! These widows with property
always have plenty of business to enact with all
the marriageable lawyers that come in their way!
Don't you wish you and I had some sich good
excuse for making a two hours' visit all alone
on }Mr. Hartly? not but that it's perfectly proper-Lizzie W}ilson never does anything but the
very properest-and I wouldn't say it wasn't for
the world.  Of course she had important law
matters, or she wouldn't have stayed so longespecially in that private office where MIr. iartly
keeps his desk and books! No, I don't say it!
I don't say anything, Miss Green! and I
wouldn't have you mention this little concurrence
on no account. ]Miss WVilson and I are good
friends; and if I knzew anything bad about her,




IISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.      107
I wouldn't say it. You must promise me on
your word and sacred honor not to speak of this
little affair; for it v nay turn out not to mean anything. I'd hate to put a wrong construction
upon anybody, let alone such a pink of propriety
as Miss Wilson. What, already? why, you've
hardly set long enough to get rested, and I did
want a good long set-down with you. Be sure,
now, not to speak of what has passed between
us; I've told it in the strictest confidence, because I know if I could rely upon any one's
voracity, it would be Mehitable Green's.




CHAPTER IX.
WANTED, A WIFE: MISS SLIMMENS ANSWERS THE
ADVERTISEM]ENT.
HAND me that paper, Dora, that come
around Miss Tuttle's bunnit. It's a Boston paper, and has got the latest news, probably.
If it should have one of Longfellow's sweet, dear
poems in it, I should want to cut it out and paste
it in my scrapbook.  I idolize that man! his
poetry is so mellifluent, and his sentiments
always congeal with  my own.   I've ever
regretted that it has been our fate not to meet.
If we'd have met in time, the destiny of Alvira
Slimmens might have been very different from
the fashionable milliner of Pennyville. I feel it
within me, that I am not all that I was culpable
of. I do hope there's some more of that " Aristocrat of the Breakfast-Table " in here. I want to
find out if that forward chit of a schoolma'azu is
going to succeed in her arts and endeavors, which
108




MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.      109
I can see through as plain as a millstone, and
should think he might.
Next to the murders and elopements, I always
read the deaths and marriages-hot that I know
the people, but it's so exciting! —and next the
advertisements. Bless my stars!Well, did you
ever! (Reads):
" 3IATRIMoNIAL.-A young gentleman, a student of Cambridge, who has graduated, and is now
pursuing the study of the law, is desirous. of
opening a correspondence with some young lady,
with a view to matrimony. She must be young
and tolerably good-looking, not entirely destitute
of fortune, of an amiable disposition, and possess
a large share of the sensibility and enthusiasm
which makes the gentler sex so charming. lIe
would prefer a lady of poetic temperament,
though not by any means a blute-stocking, vivacious, witty, and with good musical taste. The
advertiser offers, in return for requiring so much,
youth, health, an ardent, impulsive heart-quite
new, having only seen service some three or four
times-good prospects in his profession-being
said to possess unusual talents for the law —a
handsome form and face, with a particularly kill



110       MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
ing moustache; a romantic mind, and agreeable
manners.  Any young lady answering to the
above description, and worth not less than three
thousand dollars, with which to pay a few debts
contracted at college and set up a sweet little
suburban establishment, yclept'love in a cottage,' will be sure of receiving the most candid
treatment, and of finding a husband in every
way calculated to make her happy. Address,
with stamp to pay return postage, ADONIS, Cambridge, Massachusetts."
Dora, go and light the brimstun under the
bleach-barrel. (Soliloquizes:)  I'll answer his
advertisement this very evening. How fortunate
that I picked up that are paper! I might never
have known how near I had come to what I was
wanting, and missed. I'm the very person to
suit him, in every particular. If I'm not exactly
youngJ,.I can make him think I am, by the application of paints and emetics, and plenty of ringlets and ribbons. He describes my temperature
as well as if he knew me-" sensitive and enthusiastic "-and I flatter myself I can lead inl ihe
choir about as strong as any woman in Paarson
Hiiggins's meeti.Ig-house, so far as music is con



MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.      111
cerned. 1 don't just like that paying up of
his debts, though I presume they don't amount
to over eighteen or twenty dollars for candy and
cigars, which all young gentlemen must have,
and I'm arriving at an age when it will be necessary for me to make some sacrifices to get a
young, good-looking husband.  Oh, my! my
heart vacillates at the bare prospect.  If there's
afnything I admire in a man, it's an arduous
disposition, such as he confesses,to, and I always
have thought I should take to them Cambric
students, they're so dashing and just a little bit
wild. What's the use of my slaving and toiling
in this shop for the last twenty years, if I can't
enjoy my money, now it's made?  Orly to think
of a suburban residence, all nestled down in
roses and marigolds, and such a sweet air of
delusion about it, and me a waiting for my husband to come home to tea, like a wife that Mr.
Irving tells about, whose husband met with a
reserve of fortune, and my Adonis coming up the
revenue, while I stood on the porch watching for
the first glimpse of his lovely mustache breaking
ihrou-gh the distant foliage like-like anything.
Ol. it's too good to be true! I'm afraid he won't
love me; but then, as he is in such want of funds,




112       MISS SLIMIMIENS'S WINDOW.
which, no doubt, his father sternly denies him,
but he will give him plenty by and by, maybe
he'll take me, if I acm over twenty,; and when I
once get him  under my thumb, trust Alvira
Slimmcens for pulling his hair if he don't behave!
Ite'll have to be a good boy, if he gets pin-money
out of my pocket. I'll engage to manage him
after the ceremony is once said.
Got that brimstun to smoking, Dora? WellU,
run up to the stationary store, and bring me a
sheet of pink letter-paper and a pink wrapper to
correspond with it —the best he's got-and two
postage-stamps, and get him to make me a good
pen, with a fine p'int, oil-boiled. And oh! don't
forget a stick of blue sealing-wax; and remember to tell him the best paper he's got; I'd prefer
it with some problematical device, like a Cupid
flying, or a rosebud, or two doves with their bills
entertwined, or something similar. Stay! you
might as well get three sheets of paper and three
wrappers, as it's likely I shall want as much as
that in the course of events.
You can go to bed, Dora; it's half-past eight
-time children was abed. I've a little writing
to do, and wish to be left to the solitude of my
own meditations while I'm a rolling up my hair.




MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.       113
She's gone off giggling, the little minx. I'd have
kept her at work an hour yet, if I hadn't been
aching all day to get at that letter. It'll take me
till imidnight to compose it. Now everybody's
gone, and the street is quiet, and my hair in
papers, and my corset's unlaced, I feel just in tile
mood. I'll write it down on a piece of foolscap
first, and copy it out fair and square. Let me
see! how shall I begin?
Dear sir.  ~No, that's not romantic enoullgll;
everybody begins that way. AIy dearest Adonis;
that's two affectionate for the first, it'll do better
for the second.  Let's see!  Unknown but
admired Adonis.   Unknown but congenial.
Unknown but kindred-souled; that's the very
touch!
" TJNKNOWN BUT KINDRED-SOULED A-DONIS: I
have read your advertisement in a Boston paper.
It has made an impression upon me for which I
cannot account. Suffice it to say that, after long
resisting the inclinations-through motives of
feminine delicacy, which ever prompts the true
of  my sex to' blush unseen,' as the poet s:ays -
I have found it impossible longer to withstand
-what is evidently my destiny.' Fate cannot be




114       MISS SLIM[MEiNS'S WINDOW.
controlled,' says Byron, who is one of my favorite authors. Tell me, is he not also yours  But
you need not answer; I know he is! The same
initiation which tells me what your spirit is destined to be to mine tells me this. Is it not curious? But thus it is with those who were created
for one another. It seems to me as if we were
already intimately acquainted, as if I had poured
out into your soul the burning —but pardon me!
my enthusiastic temperature is carrying me away
from the dictates of that modesty which is my
idol.  Dear Adonis-there!'from the fullness
of the heart the mouth speaketh,' and I don't
want to waste time by throwing away this letter,
so again I beg you to pardon the arduous impulse
of a youthful mind-it seems to me as if I
must have seen you somewhere; perhaps it was
only in my dreams. Your description of yourself
is my exact ideal of a sweet young man, the very
portrait which has ever slumbered in my breast.
Dare I hope that mine will be so satisfactory? I
am twenty-five-a little older than you hope for,
am I not?-but my affections are virgin; they
have been sacredly cherished until I should meet
the hero of my musings; and with one of my
arduous and romantic mind and exhRberent dis



MISS SLIIMENS' S WINDOW.     115
position, a few years, more or less, will make no
difference. My lips have never yet been pressed
by mortal man; I have kept the inferior youths
of this vicinity at a proper distance. I am not
positively handsome-my mirror tells me thatbut I am called intellectual-looking, have long,
flowing ringlets, that curl naturally and impart
an air of childish grace to my otherwise almost
too dignified demeanor; my cheeks are of a
lovely red, I have hazel eyes-enviable people
call them grey-; but all the poets have grey eyes,
you know:'Eyes of greyThe soft grey of the brooding dove'and with my figure I must say I do not think
you will be displeased. I have ever loved poetry
and the contemplation of the sublime and gorgeous in nature. Although I do not profess to
be a poetess, my emotions often impel me to
the composition of verses on my favorite subjects. I inclose'An Ode to the Moon,' which
was an entirely impromtu suffusion, which I
wrote by moonlight one evening during the past
summer, and which was published synonymously
in the'Pennyville Eagle,' and much admired.




116        MISS SLIMMENS S WNDOW.
AMy disposition is gay and infantile, but not so
flippacious as that of many young ladies of the
present day. Last and least-for of course young
people of such sentiments as you and I are mnore
or less indifferent to peculiary considerations — I
have the sum you mention, three thousand dollars, in my own right, unincumbered, though
not all cash. MIy property consists in a dwelling
and lot, which can be readily sold, as it is in the
centre of a flourishing village, part of the stock
of a flourishing fancy and millinery establishnient, and a thousand dollars in the Jewell Bank.
If we suit each other, as my spiriticious perceptions insures me we shall, I shall not object to
paying up in full such small debts as your youthful indiscreetness may have incurred. As to the'love in a cottage,' it suits my tendencies so well
that I shall be willing to sell out my Pennyville
property and invest the amount in a sweet,
deluded retreat, somewhere amid the'classical
shades' of Bostin, which I have always longed
for —the intellectual privileges of its inhabitants.
Hloping that your heart will respond to the sentiments which oscillate in mine, and that you will
appoint a personal meeting soon, I shlil look
unintermittingly for your reply to this. When




MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.       117
could you appoint our first interview, and at
what spot? Let it be soon.  With mingled sensations of anticipation, your spirit bridce,
" ALvIrA SLIMn=ENS.
" P.S.-I send you three postage-stamps.
"P.S.-If you require peculiary aid to enable
you to visit this region of the country, let me
know the amount. Do not be modest.
" P.S.-Alvira cannot rest until she hears
further from her Adonis!"




CHAPTER X.
SHE IS ACCUSED OF SCANDAL.
AII H! Mr. Hartly, how do you do?  Walk in
and take a seat.  I'd begun to give up all
hopes of the honor of a call from you.  Pleasant weather for October, isn't it?-quite balmy.
I guess we're getting our Injun summer, that
delightful season which our aboriginal bards
appear to be so fond of. I remember Longfellow
speaks of it.  Do let me take your hat —do
How do you like our village, Mr. Hartly?  I
suppose you begin to feel to home here, by this
time. Find the people unusually well-informed
for a rustaceous neilghborhood, don't you?  I
hope you'll make up your mind to reside here as
a permanent residence. We shall hate to give
you up, now that we have found out -what a
treasure you are. Gone into partnership with
the squire, I reckon? What's that?  Come to
118




MISS SLIMIMIENS'S WINDOW.     119
call on business? he! he! The female sex are
not supposed to know much of such affairs, unless they chance to be of a pragmatical turn.
But what is it, Mr. Ilartly?  I am curious to
know.
WHAT!  3Miss Wilson has got out a warrant
against me for label, and you have come to serve
it? Ain't you ashamed of yourself, to pass yourself off for a gentleman, and come to take advantage of an unprotected female in that way, Sir.
Ilartly? A label! I never said a word against
Elizabeth Wilson in my life, never, and nobody
can prove that I ever did! What damages does
she sue for?  "A thousand dollars!"  Well, I
hope she may get it. These things has got to be
proved, Mr. Hartly, and I defy anybody to prove'em. Where's her witnesses?  What does she
say I said?  When did I say it?  Tell her to
prove it, I say; tell her to prove it! I ain't
excited, but I'd like to know what I'm accused
of saying, and who's her testimony.  "Miss
Wilson was very much grieved and hurt to hear,
io6me days ago, that she was the subject of false
and outrageous stories, which were being circulated through the village!" Well, what was
them  stories?  "That she'd been known to




120       MIISS SLILMMENS'S WINDOW.
spend the whole forenoon in your private office,
alone with you, and had been seen coming out
of it just before daylight, three mornings in succession!" That beats the pigs. And who says
I said it?  "  Miss Wilson has taken the trouble
to trace them carefully, and has found that they
all come from MIehitable Green, who will swear
in court that she had it every word from me?"from  me, Alvira Slimmens, who was never
known to say a bad word about anybody, as
long as she's lived in the village of PennyvilTe!
That Mehitable Green is a perfiduous wretch! I
never said one word of it! I don't remember as
I ever mentioned Miss Wilson's name to her, for,
if there's a person in this village that everybody
is impelled to respect, and never find nothing to
say about her, unless it's what's good, it's Elizabeth Wilson; and if there's a person in this village that I wouldn't breathe a secret to, if I had
one to breathe, it's that Mehitable Green. Why,
she's known as a scandalizer and a labeller, from
Dan to Behemoth! I'd like to see her, and see
if she'd tell me, to my face, I said it! She
dursn't say it to my face, bold and pernicious as
she is?  She's said it herself, and she oughtto
be held responsible; SHE ought to pay damages I




MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.       121
A thousand dollars! Why, it would break me up,
root and branch, after all my saving, and working,
and accumulating in the millinery line! Seriously, now, you're joking, ain't you, Mr. Ilartly!
There she goes, now, scringing along without
coming in, as if she was afeard to meet me!
I'll call her in! 1Mehitable! lIehitable Green!
come in here a minit.
So, AMlehitable Green, I've gone, and done, and
been a-saying things about iMiss Wilson, have I?
Oh, you needn't deny you've laid the sin at my
door! Here's MIr. iartly, who's going to take
your deputation that you're so anxious to give.
Now; then, out with it! What did I say about
Miss Wilson? "I said I'd seen her coming out
of 3Mr. HIartly's office before daylight, three days
in succession!" lMehitable Green, I'll tear your
eyes out, it you ever say that again! It's a perfiduous, malicious, base, and unprovoked falsehood, and you know it! Let me at her! don't
retain me, 3Mr. IIartly! I want to scratch her
face for her. WVell, it ain't very becoming, that's
a fact, sir, but I've had more provocation than I
can bear. Don't go yet, sir. I'll be calm and
collective, if you'll remain and hear it out.
" I did say, anyhow, that she was in the habit
6




122       MISS SLIMM/ENS S WINDOW.
of spending her forenoons, when Squire Waldon
was out, alone with his pardner, in his private
room?" Will you take your Bible oath of that,
Mlehitable Green? You'll have to swear to this
in court. Insinuated it, did I   Ha! ha! we're
coming to the point, Mr. Itartly. " I did say I
see her making a two hours' visit on him, in his
back office, the other morning, and that I supposed she'd make a good excuse for it!"  Well,
that's a little nearer the truth than you've teched
before. Come to think of it, the last time Miss
Green was in here, [Miss Wilson had just passed
by, coming from your office, and I spoke as she
passed, and said she must have some law business to do, as she'd been in the squire's office the
last twenty minutes, and that I'd no doubt it was
important business, as she had considerable property to'tend to. That's the long and the short
of the whole matter, Mr. Ilartly, and if Miss Wilson feels hurt about it, I'm willing to apologize,
though of course I can't make any subtraction,
as I only stated a simple fact, without the least
bad intention.
Oh, yes, MIiss Green, I've no doubt you're sorry
you misunderstood me, now that the shoe is on
the right foot, and the right person is in danger




MISS SLIM1MEINS'S WINDOW.     123
of damages for label. If you're sorry, you'd better go to Mliss WVilson and say so; perhaps she'll
forgive you, and perhaps she won't. Iintend to
see her before to-morrow morning, for if there's
a person in this village it would distress me to
have a falling out with, it's Lizzie Wilson, who's
as sweet as she is handsome, and as good as she
is sweet. I hope, M[r. Hartly, you haven't such
a poor opinion of me as to think I could injure
an angel like her, and an unprotected female,
like myself, with no one to defend her from the
slanders of the world. Good-afternoon, sir. Give
my love to Lizzie, and tell her I'll call and malke
it satisfactory to her. Good-afternoon, Miss Green.
Good gracious, but I was scared when he made
known his errand! That Mehitable hasn't half
the sense I give her credit for. I'd no idea she'd
carry the matter so far, and make herself liable
to the law. If she'd had any prudence or wit
about her, she could have done as I done — hnted
things so darkly, nobody could have fixed anything upon her; but a person that's born a fool
can't help themselves, I suppose. The fat came
pretty near being all in the fire.  It would have
been terrible unfortunate for my correspondent
to come on here and hear that I was in danger




124       MISS SLIIMMENS S WIINDOW.
of losing my thousand dollars through a suit for
label; and he's to be here this very evening.
Oh, my! lmy heart's right in my mouth all the
time. Eight o'clock this evening is the eventful
hour! I've sent Dora home to her mother, and
slicked up the shop, and now I've nothing to do
for four mortal hours, but to do these curls over
on the curling-tongs, put a little more carmine
on my cheeks, dress up in my pink silk and lace
cape, and set and anticipate. I do hope the
stage won't tip over, or any accident happen. I
shall be fidgeted to death with suspense, if he's
not punctual to the mlinit. I wonder if he'll see
how old I really am. I intend to have the lamp
pretty dull, and use plenty of emetics.
Dear me! I hope that five-dollar bill I sent
him will be enough to meet his expenses in
coming. IIow frank it was of him to ask me for
it, and what a stingy old father he must have, to
keep such a nice young man on such a short
allowance.  It's very liberal of him to expect
only three thousand dollars in a partner, when
he'll be heir to thirty thousand when his parent
dies. It proves that he isn't mercendary in his
character. I can't abide pursemoney in a man.
Dear! dear! how slow that clock ticks! It




MISS SLI3IME:NS'S WINDOW.   125
never was so dilutory before. I'll see how I
look now I'm attired. It's hard to pass the time
with only one's own reflections. How are you,
MIiss Slimmens? I must say you're looking your
best; you've done your cheeks and eyebrows
beautifully. I shouldn't wonder if you took him
in. Do your best, Alvira; you'll never have
another chance.
Wasn't that the gate? I wish I durst peak
through the curtain. No, not him yet. I'll put
a little perfumery on my lips, and chew these
cinnamon-drops, for he may wish to salute me,
which would be proper, considering our rela
tions. There! it's nrm I




CHAPTER  XI.
SHE IS EDIFIED BY THE THANKSGIVING SERMON.
TI HIS is a sweet day for Thanksgiving; the
sky's as blue as indigo! I was very much
edified by Parson Higgins's sermon this morning. You ought to have went, Dora, instead of
spending the time flirting around, as I've no
doubt you did. He's a powerful preacher, the
parson is, when he's a mind to. His subject,
this forenoon, was charity; he divided it into
nine heads, and every one of'emr was worth listening to. Some people inside of the meetinghouse must have felt hit, if they'd a particle of
conscience left. I declare I don't see how he
dared be so personal, as I knew he was. I should
have thought them that the coat fitted would
have got awful mlad. He said there was other
kind of charities than giving things away to the
poor; he said that backbiters, slanderers, and
126




MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.      127
evil-speakers must all of them answer for their
want of chlarity-that putting wrong constructions on people, and getting up trouble in families and churches, and always looking on the
dark side of things, was a great and a crying sin.
I declare, he might have just as well spoke Mliss
Sharp's name and Mehitable Green's riglt out!
IHe described'em exactly; and I couldn't help
looking over to see how they took it. I expected
to see their faces as red as fire, with a guilty
conscience; but la! they were looking as cool
and unconcerned as could be, and that:Miss
Sharp was turning her head to look at me, when
she ought to be hanging it for shame. But when
the parson said that some folks took credit to
themselves for being very benevolent and all
that, because they ground the faces of the poor
in secret, and put a penny in the contributionplatter in public, I jest wanted to smile, for I
knew everybody must apply it to Mliss Tucker,
who always heads the missionary paper with
fifty cents, and who pays her washerwoman in
cold victuals and old clothes. Why, I heerd
from somebody that had it from the woman herself, that the last time she washed there-and
she had such a big washing she never got done




128       MISS SLIMMENSS'S WINDOW.
till seven in the evening, and her three children
waiting at home for their suppers, poor things!
-she asked Miss Tucker for a little money, for
that once, as she wanted some very much to -buy
her some wood with; but ~Miss Tucker said she
could get plenty to do it without paying cash;
however, as she'd had a hard day's work she'd
pay her nice and liberal in what would be better
than money; so she gave her a little bag with
nigh about a peck of corn-meal in it, and a hambone, and a two-quart basin of broken victuals,
and a great bundle of old clothes to make over
for the children.  So, when Miss Smith got
home, she kindled a fire with some sticks she'd
picked up on the way, and put the pot over, and
made a good lot of mush, for the young ones was
hungry, having went without their dinners; and
when it was done, the meal turned out to be so
awful sour and. musty that the children cried
and said it was nasty, and wouldn't have touched
it, if they hadn't been half starved.  There
wasn't meat enough on the ham-bone for a dog
to pick; and as for the rest of the stuff, it was
just fit for the swill-pail —Iguess it coeic out of
it. So after she'd got the young ones to bed, she
thought she'd look over the bundle, and see if




MISS SLIMMENS'IS WINDOW.      129
she could find something to run up a frock for
{Mary before she went to sleep, for the child
needed it dreadfully; and would you believe it?
there wasn't a rag in the.whole mess fit for anything but paper-rags.  She said they wasn't
worth the thread and the time she'd have to put
in the rotten old duds. The whole stuff she
brought home wasn't worth twenty-five cents,
and she'd done full six shillings' worth of washing. I wonder if Miss Tucker didn't think of
that, when the minister was speaking.
Who's that?   Open the door, Dora.  No!
clear out, you begging little brat you! I've got
no old shoes nor nothing else to spare. Oh, yes!
" father's drunk and mother's dead!" they always
are. Shet the door, Dora; I'm cold, with that
air rushing in here a perfect stream. Didn't I
see you giving that little beggar a tlree-cent
piece? Don't ever do that again, encouraging
the little thieves to come around my shop. No
doubt, he was an impostor.  He'd have stole
that piece of crape there, if he could have
reached it, when our eyes was turned. I believe
in giving to- the poor, when you've anything to
spare, but not to these street beggars; they're all
impostors, every one of'ema!  I migAt have
6*




130       MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
given him that pair of blue woollen stockings
that I said I'd never darn again, his toes stuck
out so, if I'd believed the little rascal, but I
didn't; besides, I've saved them stockings to
give to that old woman that does my scrubbing
for me. She's thankful to get anything! It's a
real charity to give her work; and she's willing
to take most anything in pay she's so bad off.
Dear! dear! I'd have got right up and walked
out of church, if the minister had hit me as
plainly as he did Miss Tucker.
"Charity doth not behave itself unseemly,"
said Parson Higgins, and I know he was thinking of Miss Grant and them Podd girls.  Did
you ever see girls take on so, as them Podds
do? —so fond of the gentlemen! Anybody could
see they are crazy to get married; and the way
they giggle, and blush, and flirt round on the
very oiurclh steps, to say nothing of their parading themselves past Jim Miller's store every
day of their lives. There they go, now, in their
pea-green merinoes and pink bunnits, sailing by,
making an errand, I'll warrant you, at the store,
to buy a row of pins, as like as not. I should
think, after the reproof they got from their minister, they might stay in the house for one day.




MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.       131
" Charity is not puffed up."  I believe Parson
Higgins looked straight at Miss Dawson's new
bunnit and velvet cloak when he said that.
She's getting so mighty fine she can't put up
with Pennyvillefashions. She sent off to Lowell
to get her bunnit, instid of patternizing me, as
she used to. I'm glad he give her a hit. That
impudent Miss Sharp nodded over to me, as
much as to say he was a-hinting at my miarabout
feather and white terry velvet; but if a milliner
can't afford an occasional good bunnit who
can?
I declare, the minister didn't spare people's
faults, and he hadn't ought to; it's a preacher's
place to warn and instruct his perishingers. If
he'd a hit me, I should have said just the same.
It was as good as a play to me, to set and see
people squirm that had their toes trod on.
I guess ZMiss Green felt mean about all she'd
said to injure Miss Wilson.  I do believe she
wanted to catch Mr. Hartly herself. I don't see
any other reason for her slanders and the trouble
she made.
There goes the parson and his wife now, on
their way to Squire Lawson's to dinner.  I
expected to be invited to meet them myself.




132       MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.
Mrs. Lawson must be getting rather stingy in
her invitations. Iowsomiever, I couldn't go, for
I'm expecting company myself to tea, a friend
of mine, from Boston, the same who called here
last evening, when you was home. You may
set the table, Dora, and start the fire in the kitchen stove, and put that chicken on I picked this
morning, and the tea-kittle.  Put some peachperserves on the table, and that cake you baked
for me yesterday, and a mince-pie, and them biscuits.  When you've got everything done, you
can run home and spend the rest of the day with
your mother. I would ask you to stay to supper, but I know it would be more of a treat to
you to be to home, and you can take one of them
pies, and a bowlful of that quince-sass, and that
other fowl, as a present from me to your mother.
If there's anything else you want, take it, for I'd
like to feel you'd just as good a meal as I have.
The Lord has been very merciful to me this year,
and I don't want to be stingy of his bounties.
I feel to thank him for all his providencies, especially his throwing that Boston paper in my
way. I've reasons that you don't know of, Dora,
but will soon, for regarding it as the most cir.
cumstantial providence that ever occurred to me.




MISS SLIMMENS'S WTINDOW.     133
Don't you be too curious, and you'll know all
before a week.
I haven't seen any one going to Peters's to dinner. I don't believe they've asked a soul out of
their own family; and with nine young ones to
feed, I shouldn't think they'd want to.
There's a whole carriage-load of folks drove
up to Stebbins's. Run, Dora, come here! Do
you know any of'em? Neither do I. It must
be her relations, coming to keep Thanksgiving.
They're some of'elm there the most of the time.
It must go rather against the grain with that
stingy Stebbins.  Serves him  right! needn't
have married a woman who brought him nothing but an army of relations. Do see how she
flies out the door, and hugs and kisses'em!
IHope her soda biscuits will be as good;as they
were the night I was there to tea. People call
her a good cook!  Why, them biscuits was as
green as grass and as heavy as lead. Thank the
Lord, Stebbins got the wool pulled over his eyes
that time.  There's Stebbins himself come out,
now, and portending to be so tickled, laughing
and shaking hands; but he needn't purtend. 1
know that man better'n most folks do, and I




134:      MISS SLIMME-NS S WINDOW.
know he is sorry for some things he didn't do, as
well as for some he did; but it's too late for
repentance, and I shan't be the one to say he
isn't as happy as he might be. If he could have
got the woman he wanted, he'd have been a different man.
Hurry up, Dora, or you won't get home in
time to cook that fowl for your supper. I want
an hour or two for quiet retrospection before my
company arrives. A mediative mind like mine
is always fond of solicitude and reflection. I
shouldn't ever write any poetry, if I didn't
indulge in these reverential moods. I really
believe I could compose a piece this afternoon,
if I wasn't agitated by anticipatory sensations.
Besides, as it's Thanksgiving, I suppose it will
be perfectly approbious for me to sing a few
hymns. I don't know when I've felt the approbiousness of a hymn as I did one of them that
was sung this morning. When I reflected upon
what might have been and what was to be, upon
the past, the fearful past, and the future, the
transcending future, upon Clara Browne's running away and my picking up that Boston paper,
I felt my heart pouring out in the lines —




MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.               135
"Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for his grace;
Behind a frowning Providence,
IHe hides a smiling face."
Since I come home, I've composed and added
these few lines:
"There's better fish within the sea
Than ever yet was caught;
The Lord has spread thy net for thee,
Then trust Him as thou ought.
" He filled the fishers' nets of old,
Do thou prepare the bait,
Nor let thy faith and hope grow cold,
Alvira, work and wait I"




CHAPTER  XII.
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE WEDDING.
UNROLL that bundle, Dora, and see what I
bought you this morning, when I was
a-buying for myself. Ten yards of real Swiss,
lace for the sleeves, and a whole piece of blue
lutestring ribbon for the sash and tucks. Do
you know what for? Well, that dress has got to
be made and fitted by to-morrow night, and
you've got to wear it and stand for my bridcsmaid! I knew you'd be surprised. It's rather
sudden, but you know I always was a believer
in "love at first sight;" and when two persons
of contiguous sentiments meet, and feel that each
has met the pardner of their destination, that
they are unanimous in every respect, what's the
use of putting it off? As my sweet Adonisthat's his synonymous name, Dora-says, " there's
no use; let us not tremble on the verge of bliss,
186R




MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.      137
but plunge instantaneously into the thrilling
fountain of happiness! Let us no longer remain
apart-we who have been too long strangers
upon the same globe, yearning for each other,
yet dissatisfied, we knew not why-knew not
until we met, and then the mystery was revealed.
Let us become one in the eyes of the tonsorious
world, even as in spirit we are!" Those were
his very words, Dora. Are they not beautiful?
How could I persist against such winning persuasions? I could not! I named the day, and
to-morrow is the day! To-morrow, at eight
o'clock in the evening, Alvira Slimmens will
be submerged in a new capacity.
I've had but a short time to mature my plans;
but I think I shall leave you in the care of the
shop at present, and all the profits of the work to
be yours; and if that uncle that you spoke of,
that might help you to buy out the stock, comes
forward with two hundred cash down, I'll let
you have the shop, with good time for your payments. Come! measure off that skirt, and run
up the breadths; there's no spare time; yet the
time seems endless to me, when I reflect that I
shall not see him again until an hour before the
ceremony is to be performed. He's gone back




138        IISS SLIM[MENS S WINDOW.
to Boston to perfect his arrangements.  Oh,
Dora, if you could see him! He's as handsome
as a picture, and the sweetest black eyes, and
such a lovely scarf and clothes, and a ring on his
finger, and his hans as small and white as a
woman's, and do you know I fancy hle resembles
Byron, or, at least, Byron's Corsair! I never
expected to be so superelatively happy! Wasn't
it fortunate I trimmed up them caps and things
just before Clara Brown run away?  They're all
ready for an emergency, and I've nothing to do
but get this dress made and pack my trunks.
See! how do you like it? I'd a sent to Lowell,
but I hadn't time; and this is next to what I
wanted. I wanted a white more-antic, but there
wasn't a yard in Pennyville, and I considered
myself fortunate in finding this silver brocade.
I paid three dollars a yard for it, at Curtis's;
but a person don't get married every day,'specially to a beautiful young student, that writes
poetry and talks the dead languages as fluidly as
his mother's tongue. IHand me them scissors,
D)ora. Dear me, I'm  so flurried, I'm  afraid I
shall spoil the set of it. Won't you pull my corset-laces a little tighter, till I fit on the lining?
Make your frock as pretty as you can, for the




MISS SLIMMENSS' WINDOW.      139
ceremony is going to be in church /  I'm determined all Pennyville shall have a chance of seeing that Alvira Slimmens hasn't gone through
the woods to put up with a crooked stick at last
-not she?  iMehitable Green will burst with
envy, to say nothing of them twin peas, Philista
and Philistina Podd.  I've heard of their remarks. I guess somebody hasn't been any worse
off for a chance to get married than they have;
and if they don't feel spiteful when they see the
bridegroom, then I miss my guess. There's nobody in Pennyville that will begin to compare
with  him.  Clara B3rown-that-was's husband
couldn't hold a candle to my Adonis.
Snip that down a little lower in front. There!
how does that set? You see, it all come of my
reading the advertisements. HIe advertised in
that Boston paper, all about the kind of a wife he
wanted, and we've been holding an episculatory
correspondence ever since. He's been to see me
twice, and we were mutually fascinated. The
only fault I can find with him is, he's almost too
pressing. IIe was determined I should set the
very earliest day I could, and overcome all my
scruples with the persuadingest eloquence, which
I could not possibly resist.




140       MISS SLDIMIENS 8S WINDOW.
When you come to Boston to buy your millinary goods, Dora, you must come and see us.
We are going to live in the subbubs, in the
sweetest spot; he's described it all to me —a little rustaceous abode —a nest, he called it, a nest
for his dove!-half cot, half villain, in the Gothic
style of archetype, standing in the midst of a
lawn, empowdered in trees, a fountain gambling
in the mist, a portcullis running round three
sides, the road to Boston just visible, here and
there, through the intricacies of the foliage, roses
twisted round the pillows, and such a cunning
little China padoga in the back garden! He's
gone to purchase it now. That's the business
which keeps him froml my side; otherwise, lhe
assures me, he would not forsake me for an hour
-that is, so but that he still haunted the vicinity
of my abode-till we were one!  Ie's placed the
most touching confidence in me, as regarding all
his peculiary affairs. I know just what his expectations from his stern old father are, who
keeps him on short allowance till he shall settle
down into a prudent, stiddy, married man. Ite's
going to pay down five hundred on the cottage,
and lay out two hundred more on the furniture,
which is to be in readiness, with a cook in tho




MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.      141
kitchen, and the tea-table set out, on our arrival
at our home, when we have completed our bridal
tower. Isn't it romantic? I was so pleased with
the picture he drew, just like a novel, of our
arriving at home at the twilight hour, with the
lamp lighted in the parlor, and the servant opening the door to the new master and mistress, that
I drew him a check for seven hundred dollars,
to get everything ready beforehand, though I
hadn't calculated at first on laying out so much
nntil everything was sure. What's that?  You
should have thought I would have been afraid to
trust a stranger?  MIe and Adonis strangers!
What a ludicrous idea, Dora! It's plain you
don't appreciate our spirituous relations; nobody
but a kindred spirit could. We've been acquainted millions of ages, in some other spear,
Adonis says, and I believe him. To be sure, I
can't exactly recollect, but when he asked me if
I had not some dim foreboding of the shadowy
past, if I had not always felt a want never before
satisfied, if I had not seen his features in my
dreams, I answered, yes; and when he pressed
me closer, and wanted to know if that had not
been the undefinable reason why I had rejected
all my previous suitors, I told him that it had




142       MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
Oh, Dora, if you'd seen how delighted he looked
when I gave him that assurance, you wouldn't
wonder at my bliss. His face beamed with a
soft smile,
"Like a light within an alabaster vase,"
as Tom Moore says, and he folded up the check
for seven hundred dollars on the Lowell Bank
as carelessly as a piece of newspaper, and put it
in his pocket-book
" With a gesture full of grace,"
and squeezed my hands and looked into my
eyes. Oh, Dora! IHe placed this ring on my
finger, as an outward testimony of our engagement. It's a real diamond, of the first water.
Every time it sparkles it puts me in mind of
what's coming; not that I ever forget it for an
instant, but it seems more bone fido. I was afraid
he would be displeased when he learned I had
accumulated my money in the millinary business; but it didn't seem to make a bit of difference with him; he laughed, and said so nicely
that a "bottle of frangiponi would remove all
the odor of Boquet de Brimstone from these precious fingers'" and then he put the ring on the




MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.     143
engagement finger, and kissed it, and I felt in
the seventh heaven of rapturous sensation.
See if you can hook up this lining. I'll hold
my breath-now! Oh no, it's not a bit too tight.
It's going to make up sweetly, isn't it? I stopped
at Mother Brush's on my way along, and engaged her to bake me two nice loaves of cake,
one of them to be the wedding-loaf. I'm going
to have cake, and wine, and confectionary, and
after the ceremony such of my acquaintances as I
invite are to stop in and congratulate us. The
notes are to be sent out in the morning. WVon't
there be a flutter in Pennyville? -he! he! I
think I see Mehitable Green reading hers. I've
asked her and Miss Sharp on purpose to see how
dumfounded and enviable they will be. WVon't
I be polite and dreadfully civil when Mliss Green
comes up to wish me joy!
Eight o'clock, a-ready!  One day more!
twenty-four hours of " maiden meditation, fancy
free," and Alvira Slimmens will be no more. I
don't know where the time has flew to. My
dress is hardly two-thirds done; and to-morrow
I shall have all my packing, and my dressing,
and a thousand little things to do. We won't
get to bed before midnight, Dora. Your frock




144        MISS SLIMIMENS S WINDOW.
is going to be charming. Blue is very becoming
to your fair complexion. I must stop setwing
long enough to put my hair in papers. I don't
know but it's fortunate that my Adonis is going
to be absent all day to-morrow;'cause I can
leave my hair rolled up till the last thing, and
needn't be bothered with rigging up, till I dress
for the ceremony.
Nine o'clock! I'm  glad there's an hour less.
Dora, hand me that trimming for the sleeves.
Ten o'clock!  Twenty-two long hours still
left!'Leven o'clock! IHeigh-ho! I wonder if he's
asleep.
Twelve!  The wedding-dres is s done! Come,
Dora, go to bed
One o'clock! for the last time!
Two! I wish I could compose myself to
slumber.
Three! I hope the stage won't be delayed, or
tip over!
Four o'clock! Will morning never get here?
Five!  I hope he doesn't sn-o-r-r-r-e! rr-r-e!
r-h-h-r e!




CHAPTER XII.
THE WAY IT TURNED OUT.
SIX o'clock, and he's to be here at sevenl
Oh, Dora! I shall never get dressed in the
world, I'm so successfully flustrated. Hurry on
your own things, and be ready to help me when
I get my hair out of papers. Is that cake sliced,
and the wine on the server, and the plates and
glasses and everything in order? I leave it all
to you; for if I should be looking right straight
at'em, I couldn't tell whether they was there or
not.
These curls are beautiful; they never looked
better. If they'd been fruzzy now, or the.weather
had been wet, and straightened'em  out! I
guess Pennyville has been in a stew to-day, if it
never was before. Dear! dear! there's only one
thing lacking to my peace of mind, and that's
the capability of looking into the houses, and
7                145




146       MISS SLIMIMIENS'S WINDOW.
seeing the effects of those little notes with doves
on them, that went fluttering around this morning, like feathers, and lodging in people's
dominces. I'll warrant this has been as long a
day to some others I might mention as it has to
the bride-intended; some others whose curiosity
was their leading trait, and who're dying this
blessed minit for eight o'clock to see how the
bride is dressed, and what for a looking person,
Adonis de Mountfort, Esq., the bridegroom, is.
Do see how the men are gathering about the
door of the tavern, down the street there, where
the stage is expected to stop! Dark as it is, I
can count more'n twenty. They're there to see
him get out of the stage when he arrives. Lordy!
but wouldn't Miss Sharp like to go over there
and look on, too, if she durst to?
Yes, you're all right! looking sweetly. Did
you tell your beau to be over to the tavern to
escort Mr. de Mountfort here, and to be all ready
to transact his part as groomsman?' How's my
cheeks? I want'em just a little red, you know,
but rather pale. Brides are always rather pale,
you know;'specially when they're young and
sensitive. Oh, Dora, if you should ever be in
my situation, you'll know what my, feelings are!




MISS SLIMMENS'S   WINDOW.    147
Don't let me forget anything, particularly my
handkerchief, for I shall probably shed a few
tears, and want something to hold to my eyes.
I expect to be very much affected; but I don't
intend to faint, if I can help it, as I might be
liable to disarrange my bridal tounare.
Mlercy! how the time does keep running on!
Hand me my dress. I must say this is the most
opprobious dress for a wedding that was ever
got up in Pennyville, if I do say it, that made it
myself.
Can you see the sextant going over to the
meeting-house yet?  0 yes! he's lighting up
a'ready.  Mly, I must set down a minute! it
gives me such a realizing sense of what is about
to take place, I am completely overcome. Lighting the bridal lamps for Alvira Slimmens at last!
thank goodness!
There! I guess I shall survive in a short time.
You may hook me up. Ugh! that was something of a squeeze, wasn't it! Now for tlhe
orange wreath and 6ridal veil!
They're on, and I am ready! Do you see the
stage yet?
Seven o'clock. The hour for his arrival has
arrived! I wish it wasn't so dark out, we might




148       MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.
see if the stage has drove up yet. I thought I
heard wheels several minutes ago.  Now that
I'm all ready and waiting, I feel terribly. I
shall be all in a trimble after a few more
moments of suspension. I don't know what to
do to calm myself, unless I read over his last
sweet letter. Dora, child, be sure. you don't
make any blunders to spoil the effect. I want
the ceremony to produce the greatest sensation
of anything that has ever transferred in Pennyville.  I hope Mhr. Ellis has studied his part
thoroughly.  If they get here in season, we
must practise a little before we start to
church.
A quarter to eight, and no signs of his arrival!
O Adonis! I hope, I trust no accident has occurred.  I feel that I could not bear it, after
being wrought up to suchi a state of expectancy.
Only five minutes to the time! Everybody
in the church, and waiting-I can see them in
my mind's eye-and no bridegroom yet. The
stage must be upset, or some terrible accident.
Pour me out a glass of that wine, Dora, and then
throw your shawl around and go and inquire if
there's any news of the coach.  You must! I
shall expire if this suspension continues much




MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.       149
longer. My curls, too, are beginning to come
out, and it's blowing up, as if it was going to
rail. What will the folks think to be kept waiting in this style! I've a presentiment of some
awful occurrence. There! thank goodness! that's
the gate! they're coming! Open the door, child,
while I compose myself.
Oh, Mir. Ellis, is that you! Where is he?.
where's Mr. de MIountfort? has the stage arrived? is he coming. What keeps him?  Perhaps it's to change his clothes, and the coach
was later than usual.  Oh, Lord'a-mercy!
What do you say, John? " The stage came in
an hour ago, and he wasn't in it!" Wasn't in it!
Don't tell me so, don't! IHe's sick-he's deadhe's false! No! no! he isn't false-never! I
will not say it; I will not think it; he's dead! I
know he is. 0 dear me! oh-h!
Take away the camphire! I don't want it; he
may come yet, by private conveyance.  Do you
think I'm going into church to be married smelling of camphire?. How late has it got to be?
Half-past eight! 0 dear! what will the congregation think?  Ml ehitable Green is beginning to
turn up her nose, I know she is! I can't bear it;
I can't bear it, I say! anything but that-oh-hi




150        MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.
Oh, IMr. Ellis, won't you go to the telegraph
office and see if there isn't a message for me 2  I
shall expire long before morning, if I don't hear
fiom him to-night. There's a knock!
Only the post-boy! but he's got a letter; let
me see it.  " Boston!"
John Ellis, go to the meeting-house and tell
the minister and the people that the marriage is
postponed-that l3r. de MIountfort is very sick,
and couldn't get here to keep his appointment.
Tell them to disperse; and mind, don't you come
back here to-night to see Dora, nor for no other
reason. I'm sick myself! and I shan't see any
human being except Dora this night, not even
the minister. He needn't come; nobody needn't
come; the door'll be locked.
Now we're alone, I'll read the letter to you,
Dora, seeing you've known all about the rest of
the matter, and I must tell somebody, or burst.
Listen, and learn what confidence to repose in
man:' DEAR OLD GIRL: Don't fret yourself looking
for me, as I'm seriously afraid I shall not arrive;
in fact, I'm prevented by positive engagements.
I drew the seven hundred dollars-all right!




MISS SLIMMIENS S WINDOW.     151
much obliged.  After paying up my college
scrapes atd settling matters around here, I find
I've a cool four hundred left, with which to take
a pleasure-trip to the South. In short, I'm about
starting, and shall be out of hearing distance before you receive this. Don't tell anybody what
a fool you've been; they might laugh at you.
You were old enough to know better; but I
won't reproach you.
"Ever your admiring,
" ADONIS DE AIOUNTFORT."
VWhat do you think of that, Dora Adams? " A
heartless villain!"  IIa! ha! You think so, do
you! Well, you needn't cry, and you needn't
pity me. ]MIehitable Green will pity me, I suppose.  That fellow has told the truth for once in
his life; I was too old to make such a fool of
myself. I don't want pity. There! do you see
that bridal-veil?  I've stamped on it, and I've
twisted them orange flowers into fire-kindlings.
No, I ain't going to cry, and I ain't going to
faint, and I ain't going to hurt myself; I'm too
awful mad! Seven hundred dollars of my hardearned savings gone, and to such a wretch! I'll
kill him, if I have to follow him to the ends of




152       MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
the earth, I'll kill him! Seven hundred dollars,
and to send me such a letter! "D'ear old girl!"
Seven hundred in good, hard money gone forever; and that isn't the worst of it-that isn't
the worst of it!  I shall be a laughing-stock to
the whole of Pennyville.  I shall never dare to
show my face again. That Mlehitable Green
will be in her elements. Oh, how I hate her!
how I hate the whole set! how I hate the whole
world! I'll follow him; I'll track him to the
other side of the earth! Seven hundred dollars,
and all these wedding-clothes, and to be made a
laughing-stock!  He! he! boo-hoo! I've got
the hysterics, I know, but I won't have'em; I'm
too mad.
Unhook this dress! tear it off oi me! I can't
bear the sight of it. Take it, and hang it up in
the closet, and hang another one over it. And
look here, Dora Adams, if ever you breathe a
word about this affair, so that it gets out about
my losing the money and all that, I'll never
forgive you. I sent John to tell'em MI r. de
Mountfort was sick, and I mean they shall
believe it. I don't know but I shall purtend
he's dead, and go into mourning. I'd rather lose
the other three hundred, and be thrown back on




MISS SLIMENS S WINDOW.       153
my own resources and my shop and stock in
trade, than have it get to Mehitable Green's ears
the way I was taken in. TIhat's the worst of all;
I never could stand it. I'd rather pull up stakes,
take down my sign, bar up my window, and go
to some other town, and set up in business over
again.
Look out, Dora, and see if the church is all
7*




154       MISS SLIIMMENS'S WINDOW.
dark. Are the lights all out, and the people
gone away?  It's well I'm mlad as I be, or I
should go raving distracted; I should be in the
lunatic asylum by to-morrow evening. It's just
spunk that keeps me from it.  There! I've
kicked one of my white satin slippers into the
fire. You needn't pick it out; let it burn; it
does me good to see it. If I had Adonis de
Mountfort in the same place, with a red-hot
poker to hold him down with, wouldn't I laugh?
"Dear old girl," indeed!  " Old enough to
know  better "-ha! ha!  Dora Adams, go
to bed!
[The sign still creaks, with an ancient and
wheezy and very doleful sound, in front of the
window. We had hoped to be able to announce
that the sweet face of the youthful Dora was the
one which now beamed forth from that window
upon the inhabitants of Pennyville; but alas!
hers is still in the background, and, we are
afraid, somewhat depressed by scoldings more
Jrequent- and fault-findings more severe than
ever.  A certain nose has grown sharper, a
certain chin more peaked, a certain, pair of
cheeks more bloomingly red than ever, and a




MISS SLIIMMENS'S WINDOW.             155
certain pair of eyes keep more vigilant watch
out of Miss Slimmens's window.  Poor woman!
We have reason, from finding one of her stray
poetic gems in a neglected corner, to believe
that in the society of the muses she now  finds
her principal consolation-that, in  short, she is
given to
"Learn in suffering and to teach in song."
The poem we refer to seems to us to bear a
faint resemblance to HIood's "Song of the
Shirt;" but as the fair authoress would doubtless resent the idea, we will not mention it to
the public. It is called
THE SONG OF THE HAT.
BY ALVIRA S*******
WITH ringlets many and long,
With cheeks like roses red,
A milliner sat in her little shop,
Plying her needle and thread.
Stitch! stitch! stitch!
On Tuscan, Leghorn, and fiatAnd still, with a voice of wonderful pitch,
She sang the SONG OF THE HAT.
Work! work! work!
Bleaching and trimming aloneWork! work! work!
For others, and not your own!




156          MISS SLIMMENS S WINDOW.
It's oh, to be a slave
Along with the barbarous Turk,
Where part of a husband we all might have,
If this be Christian work!
Wish! wish! wish!
Till the brain begins to swimWish! wish! wish!
Yet never be asked by him!
Ribbon, and silk, and lace,
Lace, and ribbon, and silk —
Yet still keep on a smiling face,
And a look as meek as milk!
O men, with children dear!
O widowers without wives
Forget the woman that's in her grave,
And take the one that survives!
Bleach! bleach! bleach!
While your darlings play in the dirt,
When I ought to be making one a frock,
And another one a shirt!
But why do I talk of frocks,
Or little ones playing alone?
I've looked on them with such longing eyes
They almost seem my ownThey almost seem my own,
Because I have not anyGood gracious! that husbands should be so few,
And the women who want them, so many!




MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.               157
Wish! wish! wish!
And try as hard as I can!
And what do I wish for? A bed of straw,
A crust of bread, and a man.
I've a roof and a carpeted floor,
Tables, and-tishes, and chairsBut never a husband home to tea,
Or a husband's step on the stairs.
Wish! wish! wish!
Yet never to dare to speakWish! wish! wish!
From weary week to week!
Ribbon, and silk, and lace,
Lace, and ribbon, and silkYet still to keep on a smiling face,
And a look as meek as milk t
Bleach! bleach I bleach!
In the dull December light;
And bleach! bleach! bleach!
When the weather is warm and bright
When all around the yard
The clucking chickens run,
As if to show me their numerous brood,
And twit me with having none I
Oh, but to breathe the breath
That comes through a soft moustache!
To lean my head on a loving breast,
Without being considered rash'!




158          MISS SLIMMENS'S WINDOW.
For only one short hour
To feel as the woman feels
Who has not only a house of her own,
But a man to come to his meals I
Oh, but for one short year
To be some good man's wife,
Even if I were left a widow
All the rest of my life.
A little weeping would ease my heart,
But in their briny bed
My tears must stop, for every drop
Is fatal to " carmine red."
With a heart that was tired to death
Of being so old a maid,
A milliner sat in her little shop,
Following her dreary trade.
Stitch! stitch! stitch!
On Tuscan, Leghorn, and flat,
And still with a voice of wonderful pitch
(Would that its tones might reach some rich
Young man, it scarcely matters which),
She sang the SONG OF THE HAT!]




THE TALLOW  FAMILY
IN AMERICA.








THE
TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.*
LETTER FIRST.
NIAGARA FALLS, Juhne, 185-,
DEAR MIRANDA:
iTIERE we are at Niagara, Niagara Falls, as,
may be, you have read of, as well as heard
us all talk so much about when we left England.
We've now been here five whole days, and seen
all the sights, and many other things, of which
I, may be, shall tell you some time.  To-morrow,
* The reader need not be apprised that all the sayings of the
family herein recorded are copiously interlarded with the aspirate, and marked by its omissions, so peculiar to a class of
English people.  Therefore, for American, read Hamerican,
for hotel, read'otel, etc., etc.
Cle




162    THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
we start for Newport, in the State of Rhode
Island, I think it is. They say it is a love of a
place by the sea-side-that means the ocean here
-where all the sprack young men of America
go every summer to keep cool by bathing all day
in the surf, and by drinking cobblers at night,
and waltzing and moonlight musings with the
beautiful ladies. Oh, dear, what nice times they
must have sitting up to their chins in water,
having servants to fetch them the daily papers,
and wine, and all that!  I do wish it was dc la
mode for us Englishwomen. Don't understand
me as saying that the aristocratic people here
have anything to do with vulgar shoemakers.
" Cobblers," is a drink these funny people make
out of sherry, ice, lemon and straws. Wihen we
get there, I will write you all about it.
I wish your father hadn't been so stingy, and
had let you come along with us in our travels;
for (between you and me, my dear Randa) there's
a good deal to be seen, though we dol't let the
people we meet know that we think so; else, as
mr  says, these Americans are so presumptuous
they might get an idea that the English are not
their superiors. You and I, my pet, don't care
about such things, for we are not so wise as those




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   163
as have seen much of society, like ma, since she
moved up from Pud-angles to Piccadilly. It is
best, I suppose, to be as haughty and grand as
possible to impress them with the sense that, if
we do not belong to the nobility, we've seen people as do. I am only mortified that we must be
disgraced, away fuom home, by being classed as
conzmonfs. It is an outrageous word, I say, and
ought to be changed into something less vulgar.
That would serve to give us standing away from
home. Who could guess, from the way we
carry our heads here, that pa is a dock chandler?
Not one American. And, if we could only be
rid of being classed as " commons," we should
have no bounds placed to the position we could
assume. But we do well, my dear. To hear ma
talk, these people must all think she is a familiar
in West End; that Lord Somers and Sir John
Winter are her intimates; and she has, in several
instances, hinted plainly that the queen's drawing-room is open to her on all state occasions.
Oh, ma is true Englishwoman in carrying her
head so high, I tell you, my dear! You ought
to be along with us to learn how to travel.
When we arrived in New York, I thought it
was Liverpool or Leeds, it was so big. Who




161   THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
would have thought these people could have
such big towns? But they never can come up
to London; so we shall always be above them
in that respect. After getting off ship, our pile
of luggage gave us much trouble. The " runners" was so thick just like London, for all the
world; but they couldn't cry, "Carriage, sir!"
"Cab, sir!" " Coach sir!" with half the lungs
of the English coachee. Pa grumbled a good
deal at ma's seven band and hat-boxes, nine
trunks and bags, and at my own separate set.
He said " he didn't know why we two women
couldn't've put our clothes together, and in two
or three trunks."  Oh, you ought to ha' seen
how ma silenced him with a look of offended
dignity! She only replied: "M Mr. Tallow, show
us the coach!" Had he ha' known that four of
ma's trunks and two of mine were lull of old
clothes for effect, he would have blowed us.
We took coach for the Saint Nicholas Hotel,
and drove up through Broadway, the most
fashionable street in the country. It was much
aike London, though not so fine, because the
houses were not so old, nor, as the French
teacher used to say, so classigue.  But, I do
declare, I saw things in the show-windows as fine




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   165
as anything in London. This is between us, of
course, for I would not tell anybody so here. I
was astonished when ceachee called out " Saint
Nichlas!" I thought he had made some mistake, and, thinking us a noble family, had driven us to some palace, it was so fine. I told
mother so in an under-tone; but she replied:
"H Iush, child! how foolish you are! There are
no dukes nor lords in this country. This is a
hotel for people of quality." So it was. WVe
passed up a flight of marble steps to the second
floor, where a perfect sea of rooms, and halls,
and stairways, and servants, and people met our
gaze. Mother walked like a queen through that
assembly; but, really, nobody seemed to notice
us, though I dare not tell mother so. We were
ushered into a splendid suite of rooms, magnificent as the drawing-room at Windsor, as I have
heard tell of; and I said to ma. "Is this where
we are to sleep!"  At this she showed displeasure by a slight frown; and yet I could see she
was very much pleased. Indeed, she sunk down
into a rich damask rolling-chair, and whispered
to me: "Did you ever, Rosa Matilda Tallow!
For all the world, it's like the Earl of Carlisle's
seat, which you well remember, the steward,




166   ThIE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
with whom pa had some business, allowed us to
see while the family were on the Continent.
Yes, indeed; it's more like great than that, for
here are more big glasses, and rich hangings,
and none of those smoky-looking pictures which
everybody talks about as " Old Masters'.' Well,
I never! But don't you let on."
With this, she threw herself back in the chair,
for all the world like I've heard tell of Lady
Hastings, only that, as ma weighs over fifteen
stone, she can't look so graceful, particularly
when she is warm, and breathes loud.
" Trust Rosa Matilda Tallow for th/at," said I,
resolved to begin aright, and not to impair our
standing the least by being astonished at anything, nor making familiar with any one but the
most elegant people. And, to show my self-reliance and ability to act my part well, I looked
closely at a sweet young girl who-was conversing
pleasantly with an elderly gentleman on "her
book." She finally observed my close attention,
and turned toward me, when 1 lifted my eyebrows
in my super-silliest manner, and, with a conteinptuous look, showed her my back. I saw that ma
was pleased.
Pa didn't need any lessons, evidently. Ile




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMiERICA.   167
was walking up and down the soft Turkey carpet, with a tread like an emperor, a dark frown
upon his face, his lips drawn down, his arms
folded, and ha'uteur, as Monsieur De Trop used to
say, in his whole manner. tIe wanted something better than that, his very look showed.
A genteel-looking person came, finally, to conduct us to our rooms. HIe apologized for delaying us so long, saying the house was very full,
and it was with difficulty the clerk could properly accommodate the Arabia's passengers. He
gave us apariments on the third floor; and they
were, certainly, fit for a duchess-such damask,
and lace, and gilt, and mirrors, and rosewood
furniture, and sweet paintings on the wall! ah!
I was speechless with admiration.  What was
my astonishment, then, to hear ma demand loftily of the attendant "if there were no better
accommodations than this!"  tIe looked first
surprised, and then as if he would swizzle right
out in a laugh; but he didn't, and answered,
humbly, there were not, "' unless we wished to
occupy the bridal suite of chambers, which were
one hundred and fifty dollars (thirty pounds sterling) per day.
Ma almost screamed out when she heard of




168   THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
such prices; but she kept her face, and replied,
politely, though with a grand air still, that
"these would do, she supposed, as it was their
purpose to remain only long enough to see New
"'  -                   if..... 
York two or three days at most, when they
should proceed immediately to the country and
the Falls."
I thought the fellow was a cunning one by the




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   169
way he looked from his eyes; but he said nothing, and left the rooms.
When the door was shut, ma fairly gave up
with astonishment.  " Such princely things all
around really was good enough for the Princess
Royal. But we must let on that it is commonplace with us," said she.
Pa monved around the rooms with dignity, his
hands behind his back, after the manner of the
old duke in Kensington Square, whom you
remember, dear Mira, we once happened to see.
He looked delighted in spite of his efforts to be
serious; and I took courage to say: " Oh, so
nice! Ain't you glad we've come, pa? Everybody will think we are Somervilles."
It was quite half an hour ere we could do anything but wonder and examine; and it is true
Miranda-but don't say a word, for the world,
about it-that there were things there which we
never had heard of, nor knowed the use of, though
ma pretended she knew all about it. But, when
she took up and placed on the table what I
thought must be a foot-cushion, and called it " an
exluisite cushion for her jewels," I guessed she
didn't know all about it.
WVe finally thought of dinner, and proceeded
8




1T0   THE TALLOW FAMIILY IN AMIERICA.
to unpack. The six trunks of old clothes for
effect we had stacked up in the hall, but the
steward, coinig along, said they must be taken
in, and so pa thought, for, said he, if they should
be stolen, what a tight we should be in! We
took them in, but placed them so as to bei seen
every time the hall-door was opened. What to
wear at dinner was now the question. It was
evident, from what we had seen in the receptionrooms, that the Americans dressed richly; and,
as we must outshine them, we decided upon our
best-ma her purple velvet, which she had worn
at the Lord MBayor's ball, to which you know we
were invited because pa paid the "Times" five
pounds to announce that "' many of the leading
residents of the Tenth have decided upon running Tudor Stuart Tallow, Escq., for alderman at
the coming, hustings."  It was now the last of
June, you know; and the purple velvet would
be very warm and uncomfortable for ma; but
she concluded upon it as the only thing that
would " touch the right spot," as she said, imeaning it would impress the people with our dignity.
I laid out a wllite muslin, short sleeves, low in
the neck, with pink sashll and pink ribbons and




TIHE TALLOW FYAMILY IN AMERICA.    171
bow for my hair, as mnost becoming a very young
lady, for you should know, my dear, that I intend to pass 1here for seventeen, if pa does insist
that I look fully my age. I wore no jewels to
heighten the contrast with ma, who had ol- the
full set of " diamonds,' she calls'erm; though, if
these people knew anytlling, they would see they
were no such thing.
At five o'clock, we were summoned for dinner.
We were waiting, but decided to hold a little
longer, that the tcable d'/ote, as you know it is
called, should be well filled. Pa grumbled, for
he said he was confounded hungry for a fresh
chop and porter.  Well, we finally started, I
leaning on ma's arm, that her corpulency might
set off my slender figure to the best advantage,
though I dare not tell her so, for she declares she
is gracefully formed. PBut what a disappointnent a^waited us! The people at this table were
all dressed quite ordinary, with travelling-dresses
on, shawls on their arms, and some with hats on.
So busy were they eating that they did not as
much as look wonderingly at us, but kept on eating and talking. Ala's face grew as red as her
gown; but I carried a stiff head, I tell you, and
taughllt her dignity. We had seats near the head




172    THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
of one of the tables; but it appears that there is
no choice of seats here; one is just as respectable as another. Queer, ain't it?
Our servant was a real cunning-looking fellow;
and I wanted to ask him his name; but I saw it
wouldn't do; it might seem  too familiar-like.
HIe placed strips of paper on our plates. MIa -whispered: "Now  come the programmes-?"  I soon.saw it was a list of everything they had to cat,
and told pa he must order. 1Ie asked for chops,
sandwich, and porter.  "Soups first," said tile
servant; "mock-turtle, a lca mode, bird's nest,
alligator"-   Here mna cried, "Heavens!"  I
saw she was frightened, and so said, "' c t l mode,
of course!" with considerable emphasis. We
were served, and then ordered all kinds of dishes.
You ought to have seen pa eat. Hie took vealpie, and roast beef, and lamb, and oyster dressing, and celery, and porter; and ma did almost the
same thing when she saw that nobody noticed us.
I was seated next to a very agreeable young
man, and was, of course, nice about what I eat.
I was hungry, but thought it would look a little
common to eat much. The young gentleman
was kind to me, helped me to celery and salt, and
finally entered into conversation with me in such




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMEILICA.   173
a polite manner I knew he was a person of quality. He informed me that " everybody that was
anybody was gone to the watering-places-that
these people at table were on their way there, as
I would perceive by their travelling habilinlents
-that no one stayed long in New York in the
warm season, for measles were so bad."'"VWhat's
that? " said ma. I whispered to her what lie had
said.  "Heavens!" she exclaimed;'" we must
out of this, Tallow," but kept on eating, so
that the nice young man and I had a nice time
for cosseting. I-Ie said that lie had spent the first
five days of the -watering-season, for several
years, at Niagara Falls, and was now on his way
there. I declare to you-in confidence, of course,
my dear-that it almost made me laugh out for
joy when I heard this. Oh, it would be so nice
to have the society of such a man all the way
there! I suppose I ought not to have admired
him  so much, since Lord Whipper Littleton
dashed by our hired coach, one day, in IHyde
Park, on his " splendid steed," as you know all
the novels say. (By the way, my dear, you must
read the novels, for it so enlarges your ideas, and
gives you so much to talk about to educated people, like the young man I am speaking of.)




174    THE TALLOW FAMIILY IN AMERICA.
"You are en route for the Falls, of course,"
said he. "Certainly," I replied. "I shall be
most happy to introduce you to the wonder of all
wonders," said he.'It needs an interpreter, for
its grand harmonies are overpowering to the uninitiated."
Oh! shall I confess to you, my dear MTira, how
my heart throbbed at this exclamation!  WVho
could have said this but a poet, a " living soul
of fire," as you know Shelley has it? aVell it
was that ma was so absorbed in her dish of savories, or else she might have drawn a straight
conclusion that I was "' struck." Well, I listened
to his conversation without reply, so completely
rapt in admiration, until he asked me about the
scenery of Scotland, Vales, the IHebrides, the
Orkneys, and Ireland. Shame on me! I had
never been to these places, and really did not
know where the Orkneys were; but, of course,
it would not do to confess my ignorance, so I
replied readily to his questions, telling a straight
story apparently. When he asked of the Thaimes
and London, oh, how relieved I was! for of Loldon you know I am autfait, as Monsieur De Trop
used to say. When pa got that coachman in
debt to him, it was a lfcky day for the Tallows,




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.    175
I tell you; for the fellow had to carry us around
town for three whole days; and we saw everything in the city, I believe. Now, I can talk
amazingly of London, and so can ma. [My dear
IMira, do try and get your pa to get some coachee
in debt to him, so that you can travel over the
city, for I tell you it never will do for you to go
abroad, and not be able to talk like a fillip about
West End, Hyde Park, Piccadilly, Parliament
Row, Gravesend, Old Lion, and all.
I told the lovely young man that the Thames
was the largest river in the world; that its palaces, and bridges, and barges were unequalled.
He said yes, it was the original of that wonderful thing by Coleridge:
" In Xanadu did Kubleh Khan
A stately pleasure dome decree,
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through bridges measureless to man,
Down to a sunless sea."
I smiled, and said, " Oh, yes, that Coal-ridge
is near the Thames, and is a wonderful thing!"
Wan't that well done for me?  I now talked of
Brighton as the only sea-bath resort worthy of
any notice in Europe. He said, "Yes; but that
the Bay of Naples is pretty fair, and the Bay of




176   THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
Bomarsund good, but not equal to Brighton, of
course." Don't you see how he has travelled in
Europe?
When ma heard the name of Brighton mentioned, she stopped eating to say, "It was at
Brighton, you know, my love, Rosa 3Matilda,
that Lord Frederick Duncy was so attentive to
you. IIis passion for handsome curls is celebrated."
What a ma, thus to do the thing for me! Oh,
I know I blushed amazingly at this! but he
nearly startled my wits by saying: " Lord Frederick AIas good taste, and of course would admire
your daughter's red hair."  (RLed hlair! The
brute! I was tempted to say. But he's evidently
been in England, and knows all the nobility; so
I must be pleased.) " I've no recollection of ever
hearing him refer to Mliss Tallow, I think," lie
continued. "Gracious!" exclaimed ma, dropping
her silver fork, with a loud ring, upon her plate.
"You don't say!" slid pa; "acquainted with
Lord Duncy! Aty boy, I'm in with you for a
bottle."  And here pa shoved aside his porter,
ordered a bottle of sherry, and laughed out heartily. I leaned back in my chair to allow ma the
pleasure of a right good look at the young gen.




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   177
tfPman.'" And have you met him?" said ma.
" I knew him well in London, and spent a week
at his country house five years ago," he replied,
quietly, as though it was nothing to spend a
week at a nobleman's. "Alh!" said ma, "it is
ten years ago that Lord Frederick was in love,
or admiration, rather, with Rosa Mtatilda."  I
nearly fainted at ma's ridiculous mistake. Ten
years ago, and I nzow only seventeen! I trod
upon her toe to remind her of the blunder; but
she didn't take at all, so anxious was she to
escape being caught in her whopper about Lord
Frederick. She groaned aloud, and exclaimed:
"Heavens, my corns, Rosa!" I expected, of
course, to see the young gentleman laugh right
out; but he was as solemn as the Lord Chancellor, and apparently thinking of the post. He
did not hear ma's exclamation, but went on to
ask about Prince Albert, and the queen, and
their levees. But, when we found that the young
man had been in London, and associated with
the nobility, we were afraid to say too much.
We did not sit much longer at table, for it was
becoming rather dry; so pa said, "we'd play
quits." Oh, horror, Miranda! what do you think
happened? As we arose from the table, the servant
8*




178    THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMIERICA.
drew back our chairs; and ma, who always has
to make two or three efforts before she can fairly
gain her feet, had eaten so much that it was llnow
nearly impossible for her to rise; and the careless servant, not knowing her weakness, drew
away her chair at her first attempt to get up, and
she sank back —heavens!-on the floor. It took
pa, and Mir. kNuoall-which is the young man's
name, we learned-and the servant, to lift her
up again. She was as purple as her dress,- with
rage; and I was almost sick with affright and mortification. I gave up all hopes of making  an
impression, and saw that our first attempt had
proved a failure, for certainly now the whole table would laugh at us; but pa here proved himself more than equal to the emergency. He tore
around like one mad, and swore terribly at the
servant for his carelessness, and threatened to
make the house pay dearly for such an outrage
upon persons of quality. This appeared to give
us much consideration, for all the table stopped
eatixng, and noticed us particularly as we passed
out, ma on the arm of pa, and I-shall I say it?
-on the arm  of ]Mr. Noall, who seemed all
attention.
We kept our room  after that, for ma was




TEIE rTALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   179
lame; and pa said he could drink his porter and
eat his cheese with more peace than at table. I
did not like this proceeding, but made free to go
down to the parlors, where I met fMr. Noall
several times, and " formed his permanent
acquaintance," as he confessed. Oh, how I do
thrill all over at the thought of him! Just to
think that that grease-weigher of pa's ever should
think of my hand!
After remaining at the Saint Nicholas for
nearly three days, we started for Albany, I think
it is called, on the Hudson River. Oh, what a
fairy boat!  It was named after our great Sir
Isaac Newton, who discovered the apple falling
from the tree, and thereby explained the reason
of the world's being hung on its centre at Greenwich Hospital, as you've heard it is.  Such
fixings I never dreamed of, nor read of. It was
all gold, and silver, and lace, and Turkey carpets, and mirrors. It is astonishing how these
Americans do things. I declare I don't know if
the queen dreams of the way these people are
going ahead!  When I get home, I shall try
and gain admittance to her just to warn her of
the true state of things here. She must know
it, or England will've much to " hangc her harp




180    TIlE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
on the willow-trees " for. There! ain't that well
said for a humble woman?
How do you think I felt, dear Mira, in the
midst of such splendor, and Mr. Noall on the
same boat? My emotions were as tumultuous as
one of the kettles in pa's factory. I saw myself
reflected. all around me; and it recalled MIr.
Moore's Lally IRook's palace.  I only wanted
Mr. KNioall's arm round me to be transported to
Peri. I know the crowd of elegant passengers
must've read something inspiring in my face,
for they looked wonderingly at me. I3a had to
call me several times before I could come back
to myself, and go and prepare for a promenade
on deck. Ala "well knew fMr. Noall would
come and ask me to walk," she said. Has she
guessed my secret? I asked my heart. It said,
in loud tones, "'No!" I dressed in my rosecolored, heavy flounced barege with pink sash,
and cameo pin in my bosom. Thus dressed, I
stepped into the cabin, and really surprised all the
ladies there. They were dressed quite common,
in linen travelling-dresses and very common
bonnets. Soon Mr. Noall came along. As he
did so, he bowed rather coldly to a young lady,
who, I declare, was the same young woman I




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   181
looked at so super-silly in the parlor of the Saint
Nicholas.  How glad  I was that I had so
noticed her! for it was plain she wa'n't much
from the way fir. Noall recognized her. She
was dressed in the same linen travelling-dress
she had on then.  Iiow  vulgar!  He came
along, and, bowing very low to me, said "lihe
hoped I.was gay as a blackbird in a crow's
nest."
"As a nightingale, you mean," I said.
" Oh, yes, I forgot-a nightingale in England,
and the blackbird in America," he said. "Will
you not flutter on deck, awhile, this transcendent morning?"'" Certainly," I said; and forthwith we went out upon deck. Oh, such delicious
conversation as we had! It now all comes back
to me like a thing that hasn't happened, because
it is too good to be true.
Almost before I was aware, we were in sight
of Albainy. I then had to resume my travelling
suit, for we were to take the first train to the
Falls. All the passengers lunched on the boat;
but I was too happy for eating.
At Albany, I lost sight of Mr. Noall. WVe
knew he was to stop at the International Hotel,
for he said it was there the beauty and Creoles




182   THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
gathered.  Creoles means a young lady with
some aboriginal blood of Indian and French in'eln, you should know. So we resolved to go
there.  MAa was better of her lameness, and
talked of her first appearance at an American
watering-place with a good deal of humor. She
said she meant to dress in short clothes to
clamber around at the Falls. But pa said: "No
you don't with me. Long clothes and dignity,
short clothes and street gals," he said, with a
queer wink of the eye. So ma said, as she
expected to stick to him like a piece of tallow,
she must stick to long skirts, she supposed.
With such rich sallies of humor did we while
along the time. I was rather quiet, from thinking not only of Mir. Noall, but of the Creoles and
of what I was to wear. I scarcely thought of
the Falls.
"Here we are at the Falls at last," said pa.
" I hope we shall find the real Barclay here, not
that villainous hock ale we had to guzzle at
Albany."  "And I hope," said ma, "that we
shall have for dinner a brace of swans and a
musk ox, for I am so80 fond of wild game." I
only hoped lMr. lNoall would be there; that was
all, though I durst not say it.




THE TAL/LOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   183
" nIMarcy me! hear it thunder!" exclaimed ma,
as we took seats in the'bus. "'Where is our
baggage? Oh, coachee, run and get our trunks
— seventeen of'em; that's all-and six bandboxes and bags," said ma to the'bus man.
" Your gentleman has taken his checks and gone
for the baggage, ma'am," said the man. " Yes,
but hurry himn; it's going to rain," cried ma.
"iRain?  not a bit of it," said the man. " Why,
it's thundering terribly!"   Oh, that's the Falls
roaring!" said coachee; and sure enough it was.
But I was perfectly unconcerned; something
else filled my bosom than the Falls. "What
was it?" you say.  Why, it was the Creoles,
and Mr. Noall, and my first appearance, of
course.
Just then, pa came rushing up to the'bus,
and, sticking his head in, said: " Oh, Mrs.
Tallow, we are ruined! Two of those big black
trunks is broken down, and robbed-nothing
left in them but some candle-boxes with my card
on'em. All the valuable contents gone!"  Mla
did not move, nor appear excited. " Why don't
you say something. Jfrs. Tallow?" -cried pa.
" Mr. Tallow," said ma, " don't give yourself any
more trouble. If those old trunks have broken




184   THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
down, it is no loss."  "No loss.?  You are
crazy! I tell you your clothes are all gone, and
nothing left but some candle-boxes and old
bagging," said pa.  d"Just whiaet Iput in'em,"
said ma. " Now, don't make a fool of yourself,
Mlr. Tallow, but get in here, and let the old
trunks go," put in ma. Pa only said " Ilumph!"
and seemed to be struck with an idea, for he
soon roared with laughter, crying:'11Oh, you
are one of'em, Mrs. Tallow! one of'em, I say!
You'll do to travel; you will. Old England
against the milliners!" With that, we started
for the hotel.
The International is not so big nor so fine as
the Saint Nicholas. The rooms are smaller, less
genteelly furnished, and up in the fourth storyat least, there was where we were placed. Pa
got mad about the meanness of the roomsnothing but ingrain carpet on the floor, cottage
beds, lace curtains, and sofas, and chairs, and
one large mirror. Pa said he wouldn't stand
that.  The clerk replied: "That or nothing!"
when pa called him up; and so we had to put
lip with it.
After dressing, ma and me took to the halls,
which were very long, and wide, and cool. Ma




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   185
was dressed in her black satin, bought, you
know, at the sale of iMrs. Snuffy's effects. I had
on my bcaryqe, only with blue trimming in my
hair, and no sash on. We cut quite a stiff, I tell
you; but we found somle women whose dresses
were rich  enough for queens.  Where the
Creoles were, we could not tell; probably on
the other floors; so down we went to see.
Whom should we meet but [Mr. Noall, in company with  several other young men, gaily
enjoying the time?
"Why, lMiss Rosa MIatilda Tallow! I declare!
And M3rs. Lolly Jane Tallow! HIow do you do?"
And he shook hands with us so heartily, it tore
my glove, and actually started the bodice of ma's
dress. "Glad to kee you, to converse with you,
to promenade with you.  Allow me the exquisite pleasure of your arms."  So saying, he
offered his elbows; and, with ma on one side,
and your gay Rosa Matilda on the other, he
started down the long hall with so proud an air,
it did my very soul good to admire him I was
delighted, of course, and so was mna, for she
swelled out amazingly, and swung herself in real
West End style. Oh, the nice things lie said,
poet that he is! I gave away my heart to him




186    THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
entirely, and could only look in his face, and
smile.
"Have you seen the Falls yet?" said he, suddenly. I really had not thought of them, and so
with ma. We were too absorbed upon our first
appearance; but we dare not confess tliat, for it
would be provoking to an American to see that
people like us should think so little of the Great
Cataract. So I replied that I only awaited pa to
escort us out. " Allow me the pleasure of your
company, MIiss Tallow.  M[r. Tallow must be
satisfied with the company of his adorable lady,"
lie said, with a low bow and sweet smile. Ma
was too well-bred to refuse this offer for my
society; and so off we started for Ir. Tallow.
We found him looking after us. He said " he
had found some real Barclay down below, and
now was braced for a drive at the Falls."  I
hurried before ma, put on my jaunt hat, which,
you know, was taken from our Lancashire girl for
tearing ma's old gingham dress in washing it.
I looked charming, I assure you, my love. fMy
barege took an air of grace from the hat and its
long ribbons; and I felt so elated that I know I
must have been very youthful appearing. So
]Mr..Noall thought, for he said: " Miss Rosa




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   187
Matilda, you look so much more charming today than I ever saw you before, that I wondered
at your modesty in excluding yourself so much.
Lord Frederick ought to see you now." I could
have thrown my arms round himl for this speech.
I only wish ma could've heard it. I could only
say: "It is flattering to be so appreciated by a
person of your quality, and only trust I shall
become more charming in your eyes," looking
him full in the face. Ite colored beautifully at
this, and said, fervently: "Impossible! impossible!"
By this time we arrived at the observatory, I
think it is; but, instead of going up, Mr. Noall
took me out on a long platform, projecting over
the high bank. I was really horror-struck at the
dangerous place, and had to shrink back; but he
said: "Faint heart never won brave man;" so I
slowly followed out to the end of the platform.
My eyes! There was the Falls in all their
majestic magnitude before us.  I was dumbfounded for more than a minute. I had thought
of something like the Caermarthen Cascades,
which Uncle Dawylin took me to when I was a
child, in Wales; but la! these were so much
bigger, I could not take them all in at once.




188    THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
" What do you think of them?" said Mlr. Noal].
"Oh, beautiful! adorable! very fine!" said I.
"Anything like them in England?" said he.
"'Vell, really, I can't say. Caermarthen Cascades are not so great," said I. " Do you think
the queen would admire them?" said he.  "I
should think so," said I. "I shall tell her of
them at my interview, when I go home." "You
going to have an interview with Victoria?" said
he. Then. I saw what a goose I had made of
myself. Could I tell him  the object of that
interview, and thus betray my country? Never!
So I said: "Yes, sir; I hope to see the queen,
when I return to England, to relate to her all
that I've seen. I may give her some hints which
she would like."  Wa'n't that diplomatically
done?  "Give my love to her," was his reply.
" Lord! is lhe in love with the queen?"  I said
to myself. Oh, the agony of that moment! I
said immediately: "Let us return, Mr. Noall,
for I feel unwell."  "Dizzy," said he, "from too
much elevation of person."
So we wended our way back to the hotel. I
was quite silent; but he rattled on like the carriage wheel of a duke. After a while, he left
me, "to rest after the long walk," he said, and




THE TALLOW FAAMILY IN AMERICA.   189
promised to see me on the morrow, and take me
all around the place. I withdrew to my room to
ruminate on the infidelity of man and the fickleness of love.
Pa and ma did not come in till dark. They
had hired a coach, and made the fellow drive as
long as he could see. They talked, and talked,
and wondered, and drank a bottle of Barclay,
and asked me all kinds of questions, until I told
them to leave me to my musings; when ma said,' I was growing poetical with that )Mr. Noall,'
and left me to myself. Pa was, and has been,
ever since our arrival, on his high heels, as-the
American boys express exuberant fun; and so
has ma. She laughs and talks to every welldressed person, and makes herself generally
agreeable, for all her notions about being exclusive. But, it is true, everybody here is really
aristocratic. So we don't want to throw ourselves on our dignity much.
And I, do you say, dear? I am really head
and ears in love with lr. Noall. He is so
charming! so devoted! so complimentary!  It
would take a volume to tell all the good things
he has said. He danced with me, last night, at
the general reception ball; and I tell you he did




190    THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
it like a count. 01, I am so delighted here, and
wish I could stay; but pa says " No i" And so
to-morrow we are off for Newport. MIr. Noall
says lie will be there too, in a few days; so I am
not disconsolable.
Oh, to be loved! I say all the time!
Adieu, my dear, until I write from Newport.
No more. MlIy heart, be still.
For the present,
RosA MiATILDA TALLOW.




LETTER SECOND.
NEWPORT, July, 185-.
DEAR MIRANDA:
IMPROVE the first opportunity, since our
arrival at this sweet place, to continue informing you of what happens to me in this
country, as I promised. This, Mr. Noa]l says, is
the Brighton of America. I am writing to you,
my love, within the sound of ocean's roar-or
would be, if there was not so much noise' to prevent.
This morning I had a charming walk on the
beach with Mr. Noall. IIe appears to be a very
sentimental young man. Every glance of his
sweet, dark eyes inspired me to say something
romantic.
" Are you fond of the sea?" said I. " Very,"
said he; " more than you would believe." "Ah!"
said I, "a scene like this always reminds me
of those beautiful verses of Tom Moore's:
"'Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean! roll!'
19t




192    THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICoA.
Hie describes my emotions so naturally when he
says:
"' The scattered waters rave,
And the winds their revels keep;'
doesn't he yours, Mr. Noall "   "Then you
enjoyed  the voyage  across?" said he.  " Intensely," said I; "the sailors were so picturesque
in their blue jackets, and the ocean was so sublime."




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   193
(The truth is, dear, I was so horribly sea-sick
all the way, that I was only out on deck once;
and I thought then the seamen were nasty creatures, and the ocean was nothing to brag of, giving, one such an uncomfortable sensation, and
taking away all one's appetite for the turtle-soup
which the captain handed me with his own hands
at dinner.)
But I must go back to the beginning, that you
may understand how 3Mr. Noall aid I came to
be walking on the beach at Newport together.
Well, I made it a point to have pa leave Niagara
in the same train with him. I was provoked
almost beyond endurance, you'd better believe,
when I saw, in the same car with us, the young
lady I have before mentioned. HIer father, I
suppose it is, was with her. They came in after
us, and took seats in front of us, not very far
away. She seemed to me to be a little paler
than before; and I fancied a sad look about her
mouth, which, I must say, I was not sorry to see,
if 3Mr. Noall had anything to do with her being
so melancholy. I was looking right at her when
lie came in from seeing to his baggage; and she
flushed up as pink as my paint-saucer, and then
got whiter than ever; he just bowed to her with9




194   THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
out speaking, said something about the weather
to her father, and then came and sat down by
me, asking my permission in the most elegant
manner. Of course, I was only too glad to give
it. Ile sat by me all the way to Buffalo, talking
so gay, and makling himself so agreeable to pa
and ma, and was so attentive about the draught
coming in the windows, and about my shawl, that
I began to be certain he meant something particular. I was in the seventh heaven of happiness; and all the time the young lady, whom I
heard her father call Emmeline, got stiller and
sadder.  At first, she tried to be merry, and
make her pa smile; but, at last, she just turned
and looked out of the window; and he read his
paper in quiet..At 1uffalo-a big town, where Air. Noall
informed me the buffaloes came to drink out of
Lake Erie before the place was settled-my hapness was brought to a sudden termination. The
young man arose, and wished us good-day, saying he was going no further at present. I presumrne I looked disappointed, for lihe said, with one
of his smiles that make me feel so fiustrated:
"But I hope to meet you at Newport, Mliss Tallow,
before you have been there a week." So I had




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AM.[ERICA.   195
nothing to do but anticipate; and I should have
been quite certain of his intentions if the girl
and her pa had not also parted company with us
at the same time.
I do thinl ma knows about as well as the best
how to play her cards. I assure you she did not
let the opportunity slip for deepening the favorable impression which my arts were making upon
the young man who had once spent a week with
MIy Lord Frederick Duncy.
" I feel some compunctions, MJr. Noall," she
told him, as we rode along-this,was before he
left us, of course-" in taking our Rosa Matilda
to an American watering-place. They say that
everybody goes to such places in this country,
and Rosa has always been so select in her company. Things are so different in London, you
know, where people are not obliged to come in
contest (contact, she meant) with the vulgar, Mr.
Noall. And she is so young and inexperienced.
Of course, she'll be sought after; for a girl with
twenty thousand pounds on her wedding day, is
not to be slighted. But how to tell the high
from the low here, is what I want to know. I
hope we shall not be imposed upon. We shall
expect you to be a protector to Rosa Matilda;




196    THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AM3ERICA.
she is so unsuspicious."  " I trust her innocence
will be her best shield," was his sweet reply.
" MAy twenty thousand pounds, made by hard earnings in thcandle business "-(I nearly screamed
out here, Miranda, pa's such a fool about such
things) —" shan't go to any low-bred American,"
growled pa. " He's got at least to have been in
old England, and associated with the aristocracy,
whoever he is, before he gets the first penny
of it."  " 2Mr. Noall knows'em all," said ma.
It was just here that the train stopped, and we
lost him..'"I guess your twenty thousand pounds made
him stare," remarked ma, after we were on our
way again.  " I hope, Rosa Matilda, that you
will take advantage of the present favorable
opportunities.  It is true that no American can
be a person of title; but, if the nobility chooses
to associate with this young man, I don't see
why we should hold our heads any higher. I
hope your arts will be more successful than they
were at Brighton."  "If'practice makes perfect,' Rosa ought to be perfect by this time,"
said pa, who, you know, has not got the temper
of an angel.  "I -almost think you're a born
idiot, at times, Mr. Tallow," cried ma. "What




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMEIRICA.   19T
in the name of sense do you speak about the
candle business for, just at that inauspicious
moment when I was plotting for my daughter's
welfare? Do you think I can see her prospects
of happiness thus ruthlessly overthrown by her
own flesh-and-blood relative, her father, and sit
still in my seat?" She was obliged to sit still in
her seat, for, I assure you, her size did not admit
of much fidgeting about in a railroad-carriage
seat.  "Do be a little more circumspectuous
after this, MIr. Tallow!"  "It's my opinion a
soap-and-candle factory ain't any too strong for
American noses," replied pa, in a huff. "For
HIeaven's sake, pa, do speak a little lower!" said
I. " When we might just as well pass for people who inherited their money, what's the use
in letting it be known you made it? Now, you
know, with that grand air of yours, you might
as wall pass for the Lord Mayor himself, or perhaps a baronet, if you'd be quiet about the
chandler's shop."
I know better how to manage him than ma.
The idea of being mistaken for a baronet put
him in a good humor at once; and he has not
mentioned the shop since. On the contrary, he
orders the servants about grander than ever;




198    THE TALLOW FiBIILY IN AMERICA.
and I cannot tell you how pleased I was to find
that he had entered our names on the book at
the Ocean House as "Sir Tudor Stewart Tallow,
wife, and daughter."
Oh, Miranda, I wish my pen could do justice
to my emotions, and give you a faint idea of
what a love of a place this is! But the charges
are ruinous; and I don't believe pa would stay
a week, if ma did not persuade him that a few
days' expense might bring about an engagement
between me and Mi[r. Noall.  And, indeed, I
think so myself, he's so extremely polite to uls;
and the very thought keeps me in such a flutter
that I am actually losing my appetite.
We had a choice of rooms upon arriving here,
for it's too early in July for the " season " to be
fairly commenced. There's not much of a jam
yet, though the hotels are full. 3Ia wanted to
take a " sweet" of rooms with a parlor that was
offered to us; but the price was so enormous
that pa flatly refused. We have two bedrooms;
and I tell ma, when I want to vex her, that we
will have to order the partition between them
taken down to give her a chance to turn round.
If it was not for the ocean breezes, we would suffocate in the act of dressing; and that's the most




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN A3ERICA.   199
of the time here; for the ladies of this country
beat my eyes with their beautiful clothes.  I
never saw anything like it-so superb!  I tell
you we can't begin to shine, and could not more
than equal them if all our trunks full of old
clothes were crowded with elegant things from
Paris.  ]But mother's paste diamonds are so
sumptuous that she does not need so much variety. As for me, I affect the simplicity of seventeen; while pa gives people very plainly to
understand that it is not because Rosa iMatilda
has not the guineas at her fingers' ends that she
does not have as many dresses as Queen Victoria.
Oh, Miranda, such dancing and waltzing as
we have here every night is enough to bewilder
one with ecstasy! The young men are, all of
them, delightful; though I have seen none, as
yet, the superior of [Mr. Noall, except that I
admire the manners of some more-they are so
dashing, and say such funny things. However,
my heart is given to the first-mentioned; and I
shall never love another. I feel it through every
fibre of my existence!
Speaking of him reminds me again to begin
at the beginning. Yesterday being our third




200   THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
day here, I was looking out the window at the
arrival of the omnibus, when I saw him get out.
HIow my heart palpitated, as lie sprang so
elegantly to the ground! And how overjoyed I
was to see that the young lady who had excited
my jealousy was not with him!  I finished
dressing for dinner, and went down in the
parlor in the hopes of a meeting with him
immediately. Wishing to appear pensive in his
absence, I sat down to the piano, and sang, in
my most impassioned style, "'Tis said that
absence conquers love."  As I was dwelling
upon the last line, I was conscious of his entrance
into the room, though I did not cast my eyes
that way, but fixed them upon the ceiling.
There was an admiring crowd around the instrument, listening to my music.  As I ceased, I
allowed my gaze to descend from the ceiling,
until my eyes met his; then I gave a little start
of surprise, and immediately left the instrument,
as if overcome.  Hee was not the only one
affected by my little bit of acting. As I crossed
the apartment, I heard a splendid-looking young
man murmur under his breath: "Heavens!
what emotion must not such youth, beauty, and
constancy inspire in the breast of him who




THIE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   201
awakes it!"  " United with such golden ringlets
and other golden charms," whispered another
gay fellow by his side.
" So you arrived in safety, Aliss Tallow. IIow
are your parents? I trust you have been enjoying yourself," said MIr. Noall, coming and sitting
by me as soon as I reached a sofa.'I have
been living upon hope," replied I, archly.
"Ah!" said he; "that is unsubstantial food.
Perhaps that is the reason you so much resemble an ethereal being, Mliss Tallow. You are so
light and airy, one almost looks to see you flutter away in a cloud of your own pink ribbons."
I blushed and smiled, inwardly resolving to
eat no more roast beef, even to deny myself
plum-pudding and ale, if necessary to keep up
my delicate appearance.  Ma says I am  too
thin; and pa says I am scrawny; but I think
Mir. Noall's taste is as good as theirs.
That evening, I wore my handsomest balldress, and had MIlonsieur Frizzle to curl my hair.
3Iy dress was of sky-blue satin, trimmed with
primroses, with an Indian gauze scarf twisted in
the back of my hair, and floating down my
shoulders.  I flatter myself the scarf gave me
the appearance of an angel with wings as I
9*




202   THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
moved in the dance. nMr. Noall asked me to dance
the mazurka, and had just led me to a seat when
I saw, standing inside the door, as if they had
just entered the ball-room, the young, girl and her
father.  I have learned their names from 1Ir.
Noall, for I asked him straight out who they were.
Mr. Stanley, the father, is an ex-senator of the
United States, and a distinguished politician. His
daughter, Emmneline, is his only child; and lie
takes her everywhere with him. They are very
aristocratic, I should judge, from the attentions
paid them. Mir. Noall likewise told me they resided in the same city with himself. I cannot deny
to you that she is beautiful. She has large bright
eyes of the softest brown, an oval face with rleal
color in her cheeks-just the faintest, except when
she blushes-and the loveliest hands and arms,
and the glossiest hair. Her dress was not so low
in the neck as the most; and she wore a jacket of
exquisite lace that must have cost a sum of money,
and come up around her white throat, and fastened with a pearl brooch. Of course, she is a
prude! How I do hate'em, the affected things!
When MIr. iNoall told me who they were, I
was anxious to become acquainted with them,
and hinted as much, but he did not offer to




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMIERICA.   203
introduce me.  I noticed that she received a
great deal of attention; but need I attempt to
express how glad I felt when I saw that MIr.
Noall did not offer to dance with her at all, nor
even speak to her, but danced with me twice,
and asked me, when we parted in the ball-room,
to walk on the beach with him the next morning?
And so it happened that I was so supremely
fortunate as to promenade with him by the' shore of the surging sea." We walked along
the beach where the ladies, and children, and
their gentleman attendants, were bathing in the
surf. It was a very animated scene. As my
companion said, "it reminded him of the possibility of mermaids, combing their golden tresses
with'their fingers."   And he looked at my
ringlets, as much as to say I would make a pretty
mermaid. I thought I would myself, and was
hoping he would ask me to go in the water,
although I had some doubts about its being
entirely modest to go in with any one except
one's father or relative.
As we stood on the beach, who should hurry
past us, while we were looking at some children
frolicking in the waves, but Mr. Stanley and his
daughter, on their way to the bath-llouses, a few




204   TEHE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
steps off, to change their bathing-dresses. They
did not see who we were. They had been in the
surf, and the young lady's cheeks were as red as
roses; and her hair had come down, and the wet
had made it part into a thousand little shining
curls; and her little bare feet were as delicate as
sea-shells. I saw AMr. Noall's eyes following her
until she disappeared. I thought the full Turkish trowsers, and all that, were very romantic;
and I secretly longed to see myself attired in
them, and feel the delicious sensation of the sea
breaking over me in the arms of IMr. Noall.,But I shall have to wait until we are married
(oh, Miranda, how that sounds!) for I've discretion enough to know that the water would wash
every trace of the rose-pink from my cheeks,
and that, instead of making my hair curl like
Mliss Stanley's, it would straighten it out into
anything but beautiful locks; and, as for my
feet, dear, yoit know, confidentially, that they
never were as plump as pin-cushions, nor as soft
as lily-leaves.
Well, there we stood for full ten minutes; and,
upon my word, ]Mr. Noall never took his eyes
off the little cabin in which the young lady had
disappeared!




TIlE TALLOW FAMILY LN AMERICA.   205
"You seem to be indulging in a very abstracted meditation," I remarked, at last, with
just enough meaning in my tone to convey to
him that I was aware of where his thoughts
were roving.  " Ah, MIiss Tallow, there is a
charm in this vicinity-the ocean, you know,
and-the-the"-  And here he broke right off,
and stared at Mliss Stanley, who had emerged
from the bath-house in the sweetest morningdress, and such a cunning little hat on, and her
hair tucked up under it, and half of it blowing
about her face in a way to awaken jealousy in
the most angelic breast. Her father was waiting for her, and gave her his arm. As they
passed, he swoke: " Hai! good-morning, Edward!" as if he had been addressing a very
intimate friend: but the girl only bowed; and I
was positive I saw a slight smile come over her
face as she glanced at me. I expected her to
frown with envy; but she didn't; but, after
they were gone by, and I looked up at my companion, lie was frowning and biting his lips.
After that, he was not near so communicative as
before; and we were having rather a silent time
of it back to the hotel. When we arrived, and
went on to the piazza, Miss Stanley was there,




206    THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
with a book; and Mr. Noall commenced making
himself ten times more agreeable than ever. As
we walked past her so close that she must have
hleard, he said, in his sweetest manner: "' Mvay I
consider you engaged to ride with me this afternoon at six a." "With mamma's consent, I shall
be too happy," I replied; and I was afraid he
could see how my heart fluttered at this unexpected honor.
So, as pa and ma were standing by the railing, conversing with two or three dashing-looking people, we approached them.
"Ah, here comes my darling Rosa!" exclaimed
ma, in the warmest manner, as she perceived us.
" I hope the bathing was not too much for your
nerves, my child, and that Mr. Noall has taken
good care of you. But of course he has done
that," she continued, smiling at him as if he were
already her son, and tapping his shoulder with her
fan. Pa was busy talking with the gentlemen. He
wore his red velvet vest; and I thought he was
looking very well.  "For foreigners are rather
hard upon us," one of the gentlemen, a very
quiet-looking person, was saying. "Dickens, for
instance, repaid our admiration rather roughly."
"Dickens's career in this country, sir," replied




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   207
pa, in his grandest style, and unbuttoning his
waistcoat to throw out his chest, "was a warning to me. I almost resolved to travel among
the Americans, incognito, to avoid the troublesome attentions which befell him.' It will
never do,' I said to myself,'to write myself
down Sir Tudor Stewart Tallow, in that country,
if I would be safe from the populace.' But Lady
Tallow did not agree with me upon the propriety
of placing ourselves upon an equality with the'vulgar throng,' as she very properly expressed
herself; and so we ventured upon retaining the
family title."  "I hope your health has not suffered from  extreme persecutions of the kind
your great novelist was subjected to," said the
gentleman, with a polite smile.
~What more'they said, I did not stop to hear,
for I was so flustrated with Mr. Noall's offer,
that I wanted to fly to my apartment to think
it over, and communicate my hopes to ma, who
followed me up-stairs to learn if anything had
happened particular during our walk. " I con'sider it as good as a proposal of marriage," said
ma, decidedly. And so do I, dear; and you
may imagine the state of anticipation I am in.
It's a wonder I can write at all. In one hour,




208    THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
AMiranda, it will be the appointed time for that
ride which is to decide my destiny. I can hardly
hold my pen to say more; and I have, besides,
to go and put on that sweet orange silk of mine
for the drive.
One thing is certain. ~Mr. Noall means to give
that young lady to understand that Americans
cannot hope to shine when there are foreign
stars around.  His manner toward her has said
as much. I am so glad we came. Pa grumbles
at the expense; but, when he gets me so well
off his hands, I think he will be satisfied. The
adoption of his title keeps him in pretty good
humor, too. But, positively, no more until tomorrow, or until I can write you particulars of
the happy news, which I shall do as soon after as
I am sufficiently composed. In a tumult of
blissful sensation,
Your fortunate
ROSA MATILDA TALLOW.




LETTER  THIRD.
NEWPORT, July, 185-.
M[Y DEAR MIRANDA:
IT was in a flood of gorgeous anticipations
that I closed my last. My happiness is not
yet complete; but I am in a state of hope which
I have not been in since you and I were at
Brighton. America is indeed a sweet place. I
care not what pa nor the British Parliament
says about it; it's a dear, sweet place, especially
for young ladies. My only wish, Miranda, is that
you were here; that is my only wish, except the
one which I feel is soon to be gratified. Pa
talks a good deal with the gentlemen about
the dismissal of our minister, and says he
wonders the English nation did not declare
war against the United States at once; but,
despite of all that, he grows better-natured
every day, and does not growl half so much
as usual when ma and I ask him for a little
pin-money. The reason of his good temper is
209




'210   THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMIERICA.
that all the visitors here have got to calling him
Sir Tudor, when they address him, and ma,
Lady Tallow.  You can't imagine what an
effect this has upon pa-and ma,- too, as
for that matter. I am sometimes afraid that his
accent will betray him, for you remember how
all my frettings never could induce him to drop
that horrid habit of misplacing all his h's. Still,
as everybody calls him Sir Tudor, and treats
him with the greatest attention, I presume we
pass for the real thing.  I've seen  some of
the young ladies tittering, sometimes, when they
were saying things to him, and ma, and I, which
we did not exactly understand; and, though
they sounded like very polite things, I have
sometimes suspected they were poking fun at us.
Young ladies, especially those pert creatures who
ought still to be in their pinafores, can be so disagreeable when they choose, especially when the
spiteful things are envious; and I can see that
the attentions of Herbert Noall (Herbert i isn't
that a sweet name, darling?) is half killing them
with envy of me. Speaking of pa and the minister reminds me of another little fear I have,
which is almost the only cloud upon the heaven
of my summer's enjoyment; and that is that there




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   211
is talk of Lord Napier's being in Newport; and
some of the company are looking for him every
train that arrives. If he should come before I
have secured IMr. Noall, I don't know what the
consequences will be; for we have pretended to
such an intimacy with the nobility, that everybody will expect us to know him well, and to
present them to him. Indeed, they are all talking to us about him now, and asking all sorts
of questions; so that I believe ma tells more fibs
every day on his account than her conscience
will ever forgive her for.  Pa can tell stories
without so much danger of tripping, for he has
often seen him in public places in London; but
ma nor I never laid eyes on him in our lives.
lIa caine pretty near getting into a scrape yesterday.  Somebody got her to describe Lord
Napier's personal appearance and manners, and
then coolly told her that pa had just represented
him very different. I felt the color spreading
over my face and neck, for I did not see what
ma could do; but she said, very quietly, that
Sir Tudor was always confounding Lord Napier
with Sir Lytton, with both of whom he was very
intimate; and he must have been speaking with
his usual absent-mindedness. Oh, dear! I do




212    THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
hope he will stay away, at least a few days longer. ITow unfortunate it would be to have that
lord arriving here just in time to ruin the hopes
which I have erected for the hundredth time,
and this time the brightest of all!
%When I closed my last, it was to take that
eventful ride with Mr. Noall. Well, I dressed
in my best, and rode down along the beach by
his side. The evening was lovely, and the road
was crowded; and I, your Rosa Tallow, had the
handsomest beau; and he had the finest turn-out
there was upon the beach. Mly heart was in my
mouth the most of the time, for I was sure that
he was upon the verge of a proposal. I saw it
in his eyes-not that I ever had a genuine proposal, or can speak from experience (between
you and I, pet), but just as it is described in
novels. He sighed several times; and his manner was so obstructed that I was sure we should
run into somebody's vehicle, or they would into
ours; and I nearly screamed at the danger of
upsetting at least three times. The ride came to
an end, as all earthly bliss must; and he had not
committed himself,  except by  his actions.
"They spoke louder than words."
When we arrived in front of our hotel, I saw




TIHE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   213
the pale face of Mliss Stanley glance from behind
a curtain, and instantly withdrew. I thought
there were tears in her large eyes; and I am
sure she grows thinner and quieter every day.
Mlr. N2oall saw her too. He had not spoken for
the last ten minutes; but he handed me out of
the carriage with such a bow as was eloquence
itself. Ala was waiting in the parlors, looking
out for ime, and hurried me to my room to ask if
the matter was settled. I was obliged to confess
that it was not; but, when I told of my companion's manner, sohe was satisfied, and so was pa,
and so pleased with that, and with the respect
paid him down-stairs, that he voluntarily, for the
first time in his life, pulled out his wallet, and
gave me enough money to send to New York,
and order a new ball-dress for the grand first
ball of the season, which comes off to-morrow at
this hotel. I hae sent my orders, along with
several other ladies, and expect a perfect love of
a dress to arrive in a bandbox to-morrow morning. In the meantime, I am to have another
ride. Just think of it! This afternoon, I go out
again with Mjr. Noall; and he has not taken
another unmarried lady out since he came, not
even Miss Stanley, who just bows to him now.




214-  THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.'Tis evening, now; and I am another woman,
a poor, broken-hearted creature; and, while I
write, ma is in a fit of dumps too deep to say
anything; and pa strides up and down the room,
muttering great oaths about these Americans,
these wretches that they are. I will tell you
how it all happened. It is a dreadful tale.
In the afternoon, at three, Noall-the brute!
the beast! the animal that he is!-drove up;
and, all expectancy, I descended from the piazza
to the carriage. Off we drove, in fine style, I
assure you, for it was a splendid establishment,
such as I never dreamed of riding with. We
went into the interior, where nature was most
wooing, for there, I thought, surely he must propose. On the way, whom should we pass but
Miss Stanley-the mean, deceitful wretch! —and
her pa, who were driving out in their own establishment, which had just come on that day.
They passed us quickly, and only gave Noallthe wretch!-a cold bow, as usual.  His cheek,
I saw, turned first red as beer, then pale as tallow; but he was very devoted to me, ahd leanrred
over his head so near as actually to touch my
shoulder. What a delicious sensation it did produce! I only wish you, my dear thing, could




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   215
realize the " magic of that touch," as the poetic
grinder used to sing by our back door. Oh, the
wretch, to thus dare to touch my feelings! Well,
I was in too much ecstasy of bliss to note anything, and hardly knew that he had turned his
horse's head toward the beach. We were soon
on the thronged highway, where there is always
such a funny sight-the ocean, the people in all
manner of dresses, some for a walk, some on
horseback, some in carriage, some going and
some coming from the bathing-rooms, and some
up for all manner of things. Here my tragedy
of life is written. Oh, would I had never been
born! or, at least, would that I had never seen
Newport! Wretched place! How can I tell
you what happened? But I will, just to ease
my heart, which feels like a tallow barrel with
the hoops all bursted off, to use the expressive
words of pa.
We came down to the beach-road in fine style.
}My blue ribbons streamed out grandly. I sat
up, looking like the queen, I know, so full of
pride and dignity did my bosom feel. I scorned
the vulgar people around me; and I could see, as
we passed, how they envied us. Oh, I can't go
on! but I must.  I will out on him, the wretch!




216    THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICIA.
We were going along down the beach rapidly,
when we saw a carriage coming toward us like
the wind. People screamed, and rushed away,
some into the surf, and some into the gardens. I
saw, with my eaglet's eye, that it was a furious
runaway. "' Oh, MIr. Noall, drive away; anywhere, I say!" I screamed. But he stopped
his team dead still, as true as I live, the brute!
On the carriage came; and, when it neared us, I
saw —oh dear!-that it was Mr. Stanley's carriage, and that the driver was thrown from his
seat, and the' lines on the ground. One line
caught in the wheel, and turned the horses'
heads right in the water; and, as true as cattleday, they plunged right into the surf. It was
done all in a moment. A long shriek came from
the carriage; and then all on shore held their
breath in silence. But, quick as thought, Noall
sprang from  my side, gave the lines to a
gardener standing near, and then plunged into
the surf after the carriage.  I would have
swooned, but confess that I was mad and mortified that he should leave me to rescue Miss Stanley-the vixen!-from  drowning. I sat almost
stupefied.  He swam  after the horses, now
several rods out in the sea, and plunging terribly.




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   217
In a minute, as it were, he was at the carriagehe sprang upon the driver's seat-he pulled out
first the old man, Stanley, and then ]Miss Stanley; and, placing his arms around the creatureoh that she had drowned!-he leaped into the
water, and soon brought her to shore. The old
man soon followed in the arms of two other men,
who, by this time, had the courage to go to the
rescue.
Vhat do you think were my feelings all thii8
time? Bfit what will you think when I tell you
Noall stooped over the body of Miss Stanley,
and pressed his lips to hers, and placed her
hands in his bosom, while he actually raised
her head in his armns? Oh, my agony was
indescribable! But there is no end to some
people's misery (pa says, no more than there is
to a fall in the market when tallow gets to going
down), for the wretch actually brought her to
our own carriage; he placed her in it; and, while
she reclined upon his breast, he drove rapidly to
the hotel. The old man followed in another carriage. I assure you I looked at that base man
at my side with a power that would have melted
stone; but he did not appear to notice me at all;
his whole soul seemed to be bound up in that
10




218   THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
swooning woman in his arms. I resolved to
have an explanation of 8such conduct, and bore
with it in silence.
When we reached the hotel, he himself carried
her up to her room, and gave her in charge of a
physician, never thinking of me, whom he
actually left sitting in the carriage. Pa came
uip, and took me out, and asked: "Are you
frightened, my posey?"  "No," said I indig



THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   219
nantly; " I am  an outraged woman!" For,
indeed, I was so in many ways. Not only had
my feelings been injured, but, I declare, my
pink lawn was completely ruined  by that
woman's wet clothes, my head-dress was all
dishevelled and smashed, and all my perfumes
and rich roses were gone. I looked no more like
Rosa Matilda Tallow, the envied beauty of the
morning, than the willow looks like the oak.' I
am an outraged woman!" I cried again; and
don't you think the gentlemen standing around
actually laughed out, instead of coming forward,
as I expected them to do, to resent my injured
honoi'. What a story it is to call these Americans "brave men," "chivalrous to women!"
They don't understand what belongs to such virtue and dignity as they know we possess. Pa
saw how it' was, and took me: to my room, muttering: "Outrageous!  IIe shall pay for the
dress, and account to me for all other damage."
It wasn't that I cared for, but my injured position. But, dear man, he didn't seem to see
things in the same light. IHe was a little
"tight," as I think Noall calls it; and so I rushed
to my room to have a big cry; for, don't you see,




220   THE TALLOW FAMILY TN AMERICA.
my dear, that my glowing hopes were all dashed,
that the sun of my morning had set in gloom?
From ma, I got all kinds of sympathy; and
calling pa in, we held a "cabinet council," as
the papers say. MIa was for having pa go and
challenge Noall to fight, for she was sure he
could whip the spruce Yankee; but pa says he
didn't come here for any such purpose; and he
knew that that man had too much grit in him to
stir him up. IIe said the best way was to preserve a " dignified silence," becoming people of
quality —that only the law would talk of
revenge.  His counsel prevailed; and we resolved to be proud and independent. After
this, we found him promenading up and down
the halls, his arms folded; and I do wish you
could have seen him-he looked so much like
the Old Duke.  But he don't cease to swear
awfully when he comes into our room, for his
hopes of me are seriously injured, it is very
apparent.
Do you ask about Mr. Noall? The wretch!
He never sent one word of apology to me, and
did not show himself, doubtless being afraid of
meeting pa. After tea, I could not restraih my




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   221
curiosity to learn what came of the adventure
with [Miss Stanley; and I was almost dying to
know what his familiarity with that lady meant.
I should surely think, if he kissed my lips, and
put mny hands in his bosom, that it meant something; and don't you think so too, dear? So I
stole out into the parlor, looking out upon the
piazza, where Miss Stanley usually sat; and
there, sure enough, I saw her and Mr. Noall, sitting on a tete-a-tete, in a low conversation. I
could not be mistaken; they were talking in
confidence; and his excited manner, and her
evident earnestness, told the whole truth and
nothing but the truth. The true English blood
flew through my veins furiously, or as pa would
say, like hot tallow into the molds, and with true
courage, I resolved to hear for myself. So I stole
up to the window close by them, and, shrouded
in the curtain, was perfectly safe from being seen.
What did I not hear! Gracious me! Would that
I could forget it! My ears tingle; my heart is
like a boiling caldron, almost running over; and
what I have told pa makes him so mad I really
fear he will break down under it.
"' Ah, but you were very harsh and cruel to
me!" said Miss Stanley.  "You not only got




222    THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
angry for nothing-for the young man who took
me to the Chestnut street Theatre was Cousin
George, from the West-but you went so far as
to flirt with that poor English girl "-(poor
English girl!  Just think of that insult, my
dear!) —" and made yourself rather notorious for
the exclusiveness of your devotion to her. i7tlis
I call trifling; and, if it was to punish me, it was
done, not only to my unhappiness, but, I fear,
to the unhappiness of another, whose simplicity"
— (think of that insult, my dear!)-" Ought to
have protected her from your advances." All
this she said to him in a quiet manner; and I
longed to reach out and pull her nasty hair for
the epithets she bestowed upon your own Rosa
Matilda.
But, if I was angry at her speech, what do you
think I was at his  - The brute! Just' hear what
he said:'" I own that I was hasty; and I ask and
pray for your forgiveness. I was told that the
person at the theatre with you, and with whom
you seemed so familiar, was a lieutenant in the
army; and I was fired with jealousy that you
should show any but me such civilities. It was
very wrong, I knew. It was at that moment
that I made the rash resolve to punish you by




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.   223
boldness and flirtation, and have therefore followed you the rounds, only studying means to
drown my own chagrin; for, my dear Emma, I
knew I. was doing you injustice, and wanted to
say so, but could not. It was that which made
me seize upon that silly English girl "-(Heavens! iMy very teeth gritted like a crazy woman's at that speech. Silly! Just think of it!)
-" and to flirt with her. She and her parents
are such consummate snobs, and so ignorant of
everything American, that I thought the lesson
they might learn from an experience or two of
the proper kind could do them no hurt. I never
did the silly young woman any harm, I am sure.
If I did, I can repair it by calling on them tomorrow with Lord Napier, who, you know, is to
have rooms next to ours, to-night."
I waited to hear no more, and flew to tell pa all
I had heard; and he has been furious ever since.
Ma is completely stricken, and says we must
leave, to-rmorrow, after breakfast, before Napier
is out, else we shall be subjected to still greater
mortification. So, while ma is packing, I write
to you to tell you how very sick I am of this
whole country and the people. Of one thing I
am very certain-these people are just as sharp




224   THE TALLOW FAMILY IN AMERICA.
as we English; and, when we think we are great
"lions," they are only making fun, and see
through our pretensions as easily as any Englishman could. I do think Dickens was, as the
Americans say, " greatly humbugged "-what a
funny word!-and that they laughed in their
glasses at his pretension as much as they laugh
at pa's. Poor pa! He will not be called Sir
Tudor any more.
I have learned a great deal by travelling;
and I am sure none of us will put on airs any
more.  Ve shall travel hereafter in a respectable
way, but give ourselves no trouble about trying
to appear among the best. To-morrow morning,
we leave for Boston, where pa will make a
heavy purchase of tallow, for he says the market
here, like us, is " down;" and he is going to invest. So we shall make more money than will
cover our expenses.
We shall return by the 15th of August steamer.
I don't like to go to New York again, but suppose I must, for it is there we take the steamer.
When I get home, how much I shall have to
talk about! For Heaven's sake, don't say anything about my love affair to pa's clerk! for now
I am bound to have him; and I guess ma will




THE TALLOW FAMILY IN A3MERICA.   225
not interfere any more. I always did like him;
but you may keep it all to yourself. Prepare,
my darling, to see your friend about the 28th.
Until then, think over kindly the sorrows and
joys of your ever dear
ROSA. MATILDA TALLOW.
lo*








LUCIY IN THE CITY.
92'1








L-UCY IN THE CITY.
CHAPTER I.
I  HERE, now, mother, I am almost ready to
sit down and tell you all about it. I had
to run out and milk Sukey first. She was so glad
to see me! and so were the chickens and old
3rownie-but not more glad than I was to see
them. Three weeks seem to me like an age.
Let me put away those tea-things-oh, no, I'm
not too tired!-and then we will sit down in the
door; and you may knit, and I'll talk-and peel
those apples too, for the pies to be made in the
morning.
Well, you know father saw me safely in the
cars after we got to Jacksonville, and put my
ticket in my hand to give the conductor. After
he had shaken hands and gone out, I felt almost
229




230          LUCY IN THE CITY.
like-crying at being left alone among so many
people, and the bells ringing, and the locomotive
screaming-such a horrible noise, mother! You
never heard it, did you?  But, after the cars
were once in motion, I grew quite composed, for
no one seemed to mind me; and I felt cjTite
exhilarated by the rapidity with which we flew
along.
I suppose you thought I looked very nicely
when I set out-didn't you, mother? —with the
black sillk dress which we had mate over, and
my bonnet newly bleached and trimmed. I'll
confess I thought I was rather smartly dressed;
but, when I came to compare myself with the
ladies whom I saw about me, I found that coatsleeves, and bonnets large enough to shadow one's
face, were out of date; and when I heard a handsome girl in the opposite seat whispering " Antediluvian," with a very amused and sarcastic face,
I supposed she meant me, and blushed and
fidgeted awhile, but finally concluded not to
mind it.
Every little while the train would stop at
stations; and people would get on, and others
off the cars; so that I had enough to keep me
interested. The women looked very qucer, the




LUCY IN THE CITY.        231
most of them.  I could not imagine what was
the matter with them, and finally studied it out
that they had on some kind of car life-preservers;
so that, if there was a collision, they would be
in less danger of being crushed. This made me
uneasy, because I had none; yet they looked so
ugly, that I was almost willing to run the risk
of one ride without such a preserver. By and
by, I began to grow uneasy about uncle's being
at the cars to meet me. I did not know what to
do in case he. should be kept, for I had forgotten
the number of his house, which he had been so
particular to give me. So when the conductor
came for my ticket, I asked him if he knew
Ebenezer Wilmot, and, if he did, if he would
please to tell me what the number of his residence
was. He smiled, and said that he did not recollect him. I told him I thought he must know
him, for he had lived in New York a great
many years, and that his house was in Union
Place; but I had forgotten the number. He
replied that there were a great many persons in
the city; and he was not personally acquainted
with all of them. Again I saw the young lady
opposite me smile, and look at me from head to
foot. I am stre I thought it rather strange that




232          LUCY IN THE CITY.
he should never have heard of an old citizen so
wealthy and respectable as Uncle Eben. So I
asked him, then, if my uncle was not at the
station waiting for me, if he would see my trunk
safely out of the baggage-car, and put it with
me into an omnibus, describing the trunk to
him as well as I could; but he seemed in
haste to get away, and told me to give my
checks to an omnibus man; and he would
attend to my baggage, and drive me where I
wanted to go.
I was just as uneasy on the subject as ever,
when the train stopped, and everybody jumped
from their seats, and caught up their shawls,
carpet-bags, bundles, babies, etc., and I with the
rest-though, mercy, it didn't seem as if we could
be half way to New York yet! Only four hours
to come almost a hundred miles! Old Brownie
wouldn't have carried us more than sixteen
miles, and would have thought that he had done
well, then.
I got all mixed up in the crowd, and had to
go along, whether I wanted to or not, though I
tried to stop, and loojk about for my uncle, and
to go and see about my trunk. "Please don't
push me so," I said to a large, fat woman, who




LUCY IN THE CITY.         233
was almost running over me. "I want to go
back, and get my trunk."
"Run along, you little fool! You'll find your
trunk on the ferry-boat," was her polite rejoinder.
And I did as I was bid, because I could not do
anything else. Sure enough, when I got on the
boat that takes the passengers over into the
city, I saw a monstrous wagon full of baggage;
and, going up, I gave the man my check; and
he set my trunk off; and I sat down on it to
keep it safe. I was glad enough to see uncle's
smiling face, the moment the boat touched the
wharf; and it did not take him long, with his
quick, keen eyes, to find me out.  " Ah, ha,
little daisy; here you are, fresh from the clover
fields!" he cried, as he came up and kissed me
right before everybody; but I was so glad to see
him again, I'm sure I didn't care. " I meant to
have come down early enough to cross over, and
meet you at the cars. You were not afraid,
were you a?"
" A little, Uncle Eben; but I got along very
well."
"Well, you're all right now, my dear. Got
your baggage?  Ah! this is all, is it? Here,
Washington, put this in the carriage."




231         LUCY IN THE CITY.
A negro man, dressed a great deal nicer than
father is on Sundays, stepped forward, and
picked up my poor little hair-trunk with a look
of curiosity and contempt, which I saw very
plainly. " Better get a cartman tote dis trash," I
heard him grumble under his breath. " Massa
has no respeck for de position of his coachman."
Uncle helped me into his carriage; and we
were driven along at a cautious rate through
such a jam. Why, I expected we should be run
into on every side! We went through Broadway, that you and I have read so much about.
The noise, and crowd, and splendid buildings
were more than I had expected; and, though we
were more than an hour reaching the house, I
was not a bit tired. I should not have known
whether we had been on the way one hour or
ten, I was so absorbed in looking, and in listening, too, for dear uncle talked all the way, and
explained everything.
I was almost afraid to go up the fine marble
steps, when we at last got out of the carriage.
You've never been at Uncle Eben's, have you,
mother, since he had his last house built?  It
seemed as if even my best morocco slippers
were not nice enough to step upon the carpet in




LUCY IN THE CITY.        235
the parlors. I thought of the rag one which
you and I made with so much labor, and were
so pleased with when we got it down in the front
room. Uncle rang a bell; and a mulatto girl
came to the door.
"Show Miss Wilmot to her room; and help
her to anything she wants," he said.
Miss Angeline looked at me from head to foot,
and was about to giggle; but, catching her
master's eye, she suddenly grew more polite.
" Step dis way, if you please," she said. And,
as I followed her, uncle told me that, by the time
I had rested a few moments, and washed the
dust from my face and hands, tea would be
ready.
My chamber was almost as nice as the parlor
-the most beautiful curtains, and carpet, and
chairs, and a great mirror, and so many little
things on the toilet table which I did not know
the use of. The colored girl stood in the centre
of the room, and watched me as'I took off my
bonnet and gloves, and then made a show of
putting them away for me; but I could see very
well that she thought me a great curiosity. I
began to feel that I wcas a worse ignoramus than
I had supposed; but I did not choose to be




236          LUCY IN TnHE CITY.
laughed at by a servant; so I sat down, and
looked at her, a moment, quite steadily, and then
told her she might leave; I did not need her services at present.
"Well, ring when you do, mum. I suppose
you know dat by pulling dis here circumlnuoiis
knob, you cause de ringing to divert my atteiintion from de regions I may be occupyin'."
1;1




LUCY IN THE CITY.        237
And, with a superb courtesy, she backed out of
the door, which she could not get through with
one effort, she was so puffed and swelled out
with that mysterious arrangement which had
attracted my attention in the cars, and which I
now saw could not be a life-preserver.
I brushed the dust off me, and bathed my face
and hands, and smoothed my curls, taking pains
to have them very nice, because I knew uncle
liked them. I could see my whole figure in the
mirror; and I must confess I was not quite so
contented with my old black silk as I was when
I left home. The girl had on a better one, and a
dozen little fixings besides, that I should have
thought good enough for a party. However,
there was no help for it; and I was glad that
Uncle Eben was an old bachelor, and had no
finnified wife and daughters to be mortified at
their country cousin. " I will stay altogether in
the house," I thought, "and not put him to the
blush by my ignorance of city fashions.  He
will like me just as I am." Comforted by this
conclusion, I went down into the parlors, and
found him awaiting me, sitting in a great velvetcushioned chair. Ile pulled me into his lap,
just as if I was still a little girl.  "L Little




238          LUCY IN THE CITY.
Daisy's curls are as bright as ever, and her eyes
and her cheeks," he said, pinching my face until
I am  sure it must have been rosy enough.
"That comes of milking the cows, and running
in the meadows, and living on peaches and
cream, I suppose; hey, little girl?"
"I suppose it does, uncle. Just look at my
hands, how brown they are! But why do you
call me little? I am seventeen, now."
You ought to have heard him laugh! I grew.
quite confused, and was afraid he would think
me foolish.
" You are, are you? And I'm not to call you
my little puss, or my little daisy, or my little
Lucy any more? You have grown tall since I
saw you. But you are not so very large yet.
Bless you, you are not a young lady, I hope! I
hate young ladies. If you had a hoop on, now,
I could not have you in my lap, nor get near
enough to you to kiss you."
" What is a hoop, uncle?"
"3Bless my soul! A hoop? Why, it's a prodigious circle, an immense balloon-bonescrinoline-a skeleton-a what-not-a-in short,
a petticoat of a new fashion. Don't you take
the magazines? I'll show you what it is to



LUCY IN THE CITY.        239
morrow, when we go out to walk. I'll show
you crinoline in perfection."
"Was that a hoop that made your servant
look so like a big yellow pumpkin with a little
black stem, uncle?"
"Yes, my dear. Tile encroachments of the
other sex upon our rights are getting to be intollerable. Yesterday, I happened to get squeezed
in between two ladies in an omnibus; and only
a small part of my nose was visible. I was
afraid I would never come to light again; but
one of the fair ones departed; and I emerged to
view much to the surprise of an old lady who
was sitting opposite.'Sakes alive!' she exclaimed;'was you in there?' And then the
men laughed; but the women did not blush.
They do not know how, now-a-days."
I laughed, too, at Uncle Eben's story, and at
his railing at the women; and then we went into
his library, where he had ordered the tea to be
served; and we had a cozy supper all to ourselves, with only one waiter, who did not
embarrass me much. I believe my dear mother
has taught me the _principles upon which politeness is founded; and, for the rest, I used my
wits and my eyes, when there was anything new.




240          LUCY IN THE CITY.
I had a delightful evening. Uncle offered to
take me to the opera, or to see the Ravels; but
I was too tired to care to go out the first night;
so he showed me over his house, and played the
piano for me, told me the names and subjects of
the beautiful pictures on the walls, and did all
he could to amuse me. I do think he is the best
old bachelor uncle in the world, mother; don't
you?
Before I left him for my room, he told me that
he had invitations out for a party, to come off
the very next evening. He said he had asked
me to come at this time.on purpose to have me
present; and he had made it a fancy dress party
in order to have me play the character which he
had chosen for me.  It was the first party since
his acquaintances had come back from the watering-places; and he meant to have it very fine.
"Oh, uncle!" I cried, in dismay, "I shall
never be able to meet so many people! And I
have no dress that is fit. Indeed-indeed, I
must keep hidden in my room!"
"You must do nothing of the kind. Your
name is on the cards of invitation. I made the
ball on purpose for you. IHave you no festival
dress at all in that little hair-trunk you brought?"




LUCY IN THE CITY.         241
"Nothing but a white mull that has been done
up a dozen times. It is tucked; and I thought
it very pretty before I came here.  Mnother
ironed it nicely for me; but I am sure now,
uncle, that you would not let me wear it."
" Yes, I will, and shall insist upon it. It is
just what I expected you would have; and I
should have been disappointed if you had fixed
up anything more splendid.. There, puss, you
begin to look tired and a little sleepy. Go to
bed, and dream that you will be the prettiest
girl at the ball to-morrow."
I should have thought he was quizzing me if I
had not known that he really loved me, and
would not hurt my feelings for the world. So I
kissed him good-night, and went to bed, but not
to sleep for some time. I was excited by my
journey, what I had seen, and what I had got to
see. However, I was awake in the morning,
and up and dressed two hours before I heard any
stir in the house; and I had grown actually hungry before breakfast was served.
After breakfast, I saw some p5reparation, but
not half so much stir as we should have made
for a common tea party. The waiter was busy
with the silver and glass in the dining-room;
11




242          LUCY IN THE CITY.
and the parlors were being dusted, and some
fancy lights arranged; and I suppose there was
an extra servant or two in the kitchen.
About eleven o'clock, uncle asked me if I did
not want to go down town, and do a little shopping, saying he would like to show me the fashionable stores; and we might stop at the Dusseldorf Gallery on our way back. I told him that
you had given me ten dollars for spendingmoney; but I had not decided what I should get
with it yet. - I had just had my bonnet bleached
and trimmed, and was not really in need of anything.
"Nct in need of anything!" he exclaimed.
" I wonder if there is another woman in the city
so well off as that! You'll make a good wife
for some man, my dear. But run, and put on
that aforesaid bonnet which has been' bleached
and trimmed'-how many times, Daisy?"
" Three, Uncle Eben. BPut I do not like to go
out with you. You have so many fine acquaintances; and you will be so ashamed when you
meet them, with such a queer, old-fashioned little girl by your side!"
"Who told you you were queer and oldfashioned?  HIave you found that out already?




LUCY IN THE CITY.          243
Well, your waiting-maid, Angelina, is a very
good imitation of my bon ton lady friends, in the
way of dress, and manners, too, perhaps. Do
you already aspire to be like her?  When I am
ashamed of my rustic blossom, she shall first
have given me some real cause."
I thought if uncle, who knew so well, didn't
care, that I needn't; and so I tied on my bonnet
quite gaily; and we started out.
I wonder if all old bachelors are lilke uncle,
mother?-he has such strange ways of saying
things, and is so sarcastic, sometimes, in spite of
his good nature and his real kindness. I hardly
knew what to make of his talk, at first, as we
went along, I stumbling over people, almost, in
my eagerness to use my eyes; but at last I
entered into the spirit of it, I guess.
"So we are going a shopping, are we?" he
begun.  "I've a little silly female friend, a
married lady, who informs me that shopping is
quite an art, much cultivafed and prized by her
associates; and, from what I'have observed, I
should think it must be so. In fact, I should
think it might almost be called one of the finearts. As our fair ladies are not altogether destitute of talent, and have no other means of




244          LUCY IN THE CITY.
exhibiting- it, it is natural that they should seek
the only avenue open for a useful and agreeable
employment of the faculties which their Creator
has bestowed. Upon every fine day, you will
see the most fashionable thoroughfares of the
city brilliant with the gay creatures, fluttering
about, happy in their favorite pursuit.  They
purchase, and purchase, and purchase everything
recommended by the  ineffable young  men
making their 1o-tows (that's Chinese for grand
salaams, my dear) behind the counter, until their
purses are emptied, and the patience of their
husbands exhausted; but this does not dampen
their ardor in the least. Yesterday, I overheard
two elegant creatures conversing something in
this wise:
"'IWhat do you propose buying to-day, may
dear?'"
"'Oh, I do not know, my sweetest! I spent
all my allowance yesterday. But we can look at
the lovely things, you know. And, if the merchants get out of patience, we can purchase a
skein of silk or a spool of floss.'
"'But you know  they never get out of
patience.  I spent four hours, the other day,
looking at the dear, delicious laces and shawls at




LUCY IN THE CITY.         245
Alltherage's, after I had mine for the season;
and I took nothing; yet that elegant Sliminwaist,
who shows them, smiled as graciously when lie
bowed me out as when I came in.  What white
teeth he has! hasn't he? Let's go in there now.
I heard, last evening, that some charming tissues
had arrived. By the way, love, I have been
told something so curious! —that the spines of
shopkeepers were made of caoutchouc, and their
tempers of the same.'
"'Ah, how  queer!  I've got some tissue
paper stuffed in my purse, and some gilt buttons.'' Oh, it's so agreeable to shop! I wish there
was nothing else in the world to do. But I must
be home in three hours. My husband is going
to Europe; and he asked me to be at home to
dinner, to bid him good bye. It's such a bore to
bid your friends farewell!'
"'i usbands are getting to be so exacting!'
" I tried to lag, so as not to be compelled to
play listener; but, as they warmed with their
subject, their own steps lessened; and I do not
know how much I might have gathered, if I had
not turned aside in desperation, and darted into
a bazaar, where I stumbled among a whole




246           LUCY IN THE CITY
crowd of butterflies fluttering about a garden of
gay tissues, and Slimwaist himself, thrown into
an admiring attitude, gazing ecstatically upon a
strip of faded leaf-colored something, which he
had gathered into airy folds, and was gently
waving to display its beauties. I felt almost
tempted to advise him to don the airy vesture he
so elegantly recommended, and so fully appreciated; but, upon glancing at the slight moustache,
whose glossy curves it would have been a pity
to sacrifice, I refrained, and made my exit,
encountering at the door the lovely feminines to
whose soft conversation I had unwillingly been
a confidant. I do not know if these beautiful
creatures have ever heard that' time is money.'
If so, they must pay a double price for what is
already dear enough.  Mily friend, Bulbul I call
her, describes the fascinations of shopping as
irresistible-quite equal to the catching of husbands-and a good substitute for every sensible
employment; and I take the sweet lady's word
for it, and tell you as'twas told to me, miy artless Daisy."
We had now got down into a more crowded
part of the city; and he was obliged to cease
preaching; but his air was so funny, when lihe




LUCY IN THE CITY.         247
imitated the ladies, that I could not help laughing. "There, uncle! I suppose these are some
of your patrons of shopkeepers," I said, as a
couple of women fluttered past us, with their
purses hanging from their fingers, and little bouquets on the back of their heads for bonnets,
and flounces that spread out like a wide-open
fan. You ought to have seen them, mother.
Uncle told me they had a thousand dollars'
worth of finery apiece upon them, just for a
morning promenade.  "They bowed to you,
didn't they?"
"Yes, Lucy; I expect to meet half my lady
friends out, this morning, making some last purchases for my ball to-night.  The cards have
been out ten days; and they regard it as a great
affair. But don't be afraid of their knowing
you. They think Miss Lucy Wilmot is a very
different person; and, besides, they cannot see
your face in that bonnet."
" Oh, uncle!" But he did not heed my tone
of reproach.'" Here, puss, here we are at Stewart's. WVe'll
go in, and look at the things. They will be very
polite to me, and not expect you to buy. I don't
suppose you would find it possible to expend all




248          LUCY IN THIE CITY.
your money in so small an establishment, if you
felt disposed."
It was so much like a fairy palace, that I forgot to be embarrassed by the splendid things or
the splendid persons about me, any more than as
if they had been enchanted people that I was
seeing by the light of Aladdin's lamp. I followed Uncle Eben from department to department, and examined things it took my breath
away to hear the price of. When we were looking at the silks, I saw one piece of small blue
and white plaid that was so pretty. I almost
sighed for the power to purchase it. It looked
almost modest enough for my small means. I
just said to uncle that I thought it sweet.
"That would certainly be becoming to my little
girl," said he, and ordered the salesman to cut
off a dress pattern; and, while I was wondering
what it meant, he took out his purse, and paid
for it.  1 expect I looked delightful, for lie
laughed, and called me a true child of Mother
Eve. Oh, dear, but didn't I want to ask him if
it could not possibly be made up by evening!
But I did not dare to. " What makes so many
ladies look at me 2" I asked, when at last I came
to my senses enough to feel self-conscious.




LUCY IN THE CITY.         249
"I suppose it's because your dress is small,
and your bonnet large, and your sleeves tight,
Daisy."
"' But why do you want me to wear such a
dress to-night, uncle?"
"Oh, it's just a whim of mine! Nobody will
find fault with it, be sure. My distinguished
niece, AMiss Lucy Wilmot, is going to act in the
character of the' Country Girl,' you know."
I wanted to visit the Gallery; but, as we were
rather later than we expected, and uncle had to
go somewhere to see about his bouquets for the
vases and tables, we were obliged to defer it.
You're a little sleepy, aren't you, mother? and I
am, too; so I'll tell you about the party in the
morning.
141*




CHAPTER II.
5W tHEN we got back to the house, I asked
Uncle Eben if he did not wish me to do
something to be useful. I told him I was a firstrate cake-baker, and would make some for him,
if he desired. He said he had ordered everything
from his confectioner's; I might tell him where
the flowers would look best when they should
come; but he could not think of anything else I
could do.
Toward night, there were half-a-dozen elegantly dressed gentlemen made their appearance
in the hall; and I thought, at first, that it was
some of the party folks come unexpectedly
early; but they turned out to be waiters supplied by the confectioner.  About an hour
afterward, uncle called me to look at the table
which had been set in the dinning-room by
these assistants. I wish you could have seen it,
mother! It would have made our pumpkin-pies
blush, and put our best frosted seed-cake out of
250




LUCY IN THE CITr.          251
countenance.  Our roast turkeys might have
held their own, though, I guess.  There were
plenty of delicate dishes of which I did not know
the name, and beautiful ornamental devices.
The table glittered with silver, and crystal, and
china; and there were beautiful flowers which
came from the ]lot-house, and cost more than I
dare tell you. The gas was lighted in all the
burners, to try the effect upon the table; and
the genteel serving-men were standing in critical
attitudes surveying it.
"Oh, how beautiful!" I exclaimed.  "But,
uncle, it is really getting dark out of doors; and
I have not begun to dress yet."
" It's just six o'clock," said he, looking at his
watch. " We've had nothing but a lunch since
breakfast. There's a cup of coffee and a quiet
little dinner waiting for us in the basement
dining-room.  Let's go down and refresh ourselves.  You can eat in peace, little one, and
take a siesta afterward.  Not a guest will we
see until ten o'clock."
"Why, uncle," said I, laughing, "I shall be
ready for bed by that time   Why don't you
have your party the next day after the one
set?"




252          LUCY IN THE CITY.
"There's only one sin more deadly than being
out of fashion, and that's to be poor, my dear.
It's the fashion to try and be the last at an
assembly. I'm the only one in my circle that
dares to do as he pleases. They call me vulgar,
strange, an old fogy, absurd, ridiculous, etc.;
but I am very rich, little one; and so they smile
upon my' bachelor's whims,' and pat my rough
coat as if it were the sleekest silk that any lady's
lap-dog ever wore. The belles are teasing me,
now, to move further up town, perhaps with the
hope that some one of them may be invited to
become the mistress of the new establishment.
Then wouldn't they put poor Uncle Eben under
their dainty thumb, and make him keep his
place?"
"I shouldn't like to live in the city, I believe," I said.
"And I wouldn't like to have you, my little
Daisy. Now, if you have finished your dinner,
you may go to your room, and sleep an hour, for
you must be tired with the excitements of the
day; and I do not want you to look sleepy by
and by. I will have Angelica call you at eight
o'clock; and you can be down before nine; for
I know it doesn't take you half a night to make




LUCY IN THE CITY.         253
your toilet. There is neither arsenic, nor rouge,
nor lily-white, padding, India-ink, or belladonna
upon your toilet-table. You don't require much
making up. Only be sure and get down whewe
I can criticise your appearance before the guests
begin to arrive."
I kissed him, and went up-stairs.  I guess
Uncle Eben does not know as much about the
feminine heart as he thinks he does, if he expected me to sleep on the eve of such a grand affair,
and my first appearance in city society. i was
so excited that I could not close my eyes; and,
as soon as Angelica went out of the room, I
sprang off the bed, and, going to the wardrobe,
took out my dress, and spread it on the bed,
with all the articles I expected to wear. I could
not help thinking they looked very pretty. I
had bought a new blue waist-ribbon, and one
for my hair.
After awhile, I took my hair down, and stood
brushing it out a long time; then I curled it into
long curls, two rows, all around my head, the
way you like it best, mother; then I put on my
checked stockings, and kid slippers, my ruffled
dimity petticoat, and, lastly, my mull dress,
that my kind mother had ironed so nicely that it




254          LUCY IN THE CITY.
looked as fresh as new. I fastened my sash
with that little pearl buckle you gave me on my,ast birthday, twisted the ribbon through my
cmrls, and, by the time Angelica came to call
me, I was ready to go down.
I found Uncle Eben lounging on a sofa, sound
asleep. So I stole around, and looked at the
beautiful rooms all brilliantly lighted up, and
then came back, and pinched him awake. "Will
I do a?" I asked, as he arose and rubbed his eyes.
" Fair as a snowdrop! You will do, exactly.
I will tell you, now, how to behave. Just stay
by my side until the company are pretty well
gathered in, and act your own modest little self;
that's all. Everybody else here, to-night, will
assume a character. You have only to retain
your own. Now, sit down here, and tell me how
you have passed the time since I paid you that
flying visit, last year. I see,, by your flushed
cheeks, that you are a little flustered. Take
time, now, and keep steady."
I was just in the midst of bur winter's singingschool, when the bell rang, and we heard people
fluttering softly up and down the stairs. Pretty
soon, they began to be announced. Oh, dear,
there's no use trying! I cannot tell you half the




LUCY IN THE CITY.           255
people who were introduced to me in the next
two hours-about all the characters we have ever
read of- kings, queens, shepherdesses, Paul Prys,
gipsies, Nights, Mornings, Joan of Arcs fairies,
crusaders, belles of every century, Oberons, Titanias and Billy Bottoms. Dresses more magni



256          LUCY IN THE CITY.
ficent and persons more beautiful than I ever
dreamed of, were there.  Everybody smiled
upon me, and said something pleasant to me;
and, by and by, I forgot all about my own dress
and appearance, and just abandoned myself to
enjoyment. The sweetest music began to play;
and a young gentleman, dressed as a Scottish
chieftain, came and asked me to dance. I smiled,
and asked him if it was the Highland Fling, and
then told him I must refuse him, because I could
dance nothing but country dances.
" But will you not lay aside your rustic ignorance for a little while, and dance one polka with
me, Miss Wilmot?" he asked.
" I assure you I never danced a polka in my
life," I answered, gravely;.
" Well, I cannot say I am sorry to hear it, for
I never admired the French thing," he answered.
" But I should really like to dance with you, and
wish you would engage yourself to me for the
first old-fashioned dance of shepherds and milkmaids that is played."
I thought him a little bold, to say the least,
in talking about my rustic ignorance; but he
seemed so unconscious of saying anything improper, that I forgave him. He lo6ked a real




LUCY IN THE CITY.         257
chieftain, tall and athletic, honest and handsome,
too. I promised him my hand for the first set of
cotillions that was made up.
"I'm  glad you are getting acquainted with
that Scotchman. You and he will like each
other," said uncle to me, a little while afterward.
"Is he really a native of Scotland?" I asked.
"Not quite so much as you are of the rural
districts, Daisy. He is a young lawyer here, a
sensible fellow, the only young man in town that
I care much about.  I-e detests the women
almost as heartily as I do."
"'That is a recommendation in my eyes," I
laughed.
" Do you see," continued uncle, in a lowv tone
of voice, "that couple playing Beauty and the
Beast? They were married last week. Don't
you think the bride looks happy 2"
" For my part," I said, ".1 not see any emotion-not a blush, nor a smile."
" All, you little rustic! don't you know that
blushes and tears are out of fashion among people of the world? An emotion would ruin a
woman's position. She looks rather self-satisfied,
however, and has reason to.  Almost any of
these beautiful creatures that you see about you




258          LUCY IN THE CITY.
would have been glad to secure the Beast for a
husbland. She knows they are dying of envy."
" But why do the young ladies admire him?"
I asked. " To me, begging your pardon, he looks
rather old and very ugly."
"To tell you the truth, he is a little old, and
has false eyebrows, and dyes his whiskers and
hair, and was quite wild until he grew tired of
it, and is now inclined to be an invalid the most
of the time. But his family is an old family
amnon, us-has the butterfly spots upon its wings.
Yea; and so has the Beast gold in his purse."
"What a pity!" I whispered, looking at the
handsome young wife.
"Pity! I hope you do not suppose she needs
pity? She will have what she loves. Her affections are not wasted. She loves diamonds better 
than kisses, and to be envied better than a young
husband. She will have peacocks made of
jewels upon the terraces of her country-house on
the banks of the Hudson."
Here a young man attired as Beau Brummell
sauntered up to us. "1 What a consummate actress you are, Iliss  Tilmot!" he drawled, with a
smile which he intended to be very flattering.
"Permit me to say that I have not seen a cha



LUCY IN THE CITY.         259
racter performed so enchantingly to-night.  I
could almost fancy that you were the blooming
country lassie which you personate."
" Indeed, I am nothing else, sir!" I answered,
looking to uncle for relief; but he had turned
away, purposely, I believe.
"9He! he! he!" he tittered, as if I had said
something very witty; " pre-cise-ly! What delicious music that is! Fair milkmaid, will you
polk?"
" Will I wlhat? Excuse me; I do not understand you."
"He! he! he! excellent! I forgot that it
was not to be expected of you, this evening.
Never mind. I hope to have the exceeding
pleasure some time-aw!"
HIe made me so low a bow that I felt constrained to drop him a courtesy. So everybody
had something to say to me, and everybody
smiled at everything I said, no matter how seriously I spoke it.
After a while, I danced the cotillion with the
Scottish chief. When it was finished we went
and sat down in an alcove. " You look really
amused and pleased," he said, looking at me with
curiosity. " And-do you know?-I could wish




260            LUCY IN THE CITY.
that you really were what you seem to be tonight.  Then you might not have lost the capacity of being made happy by simple thingsmuch simpler things than this costly ball., If wTe
could preserve the exquisite sensibility of our
childhood along with our grown estate, how unnecessary it would be to pamper our palled appetite upon such epicurianism!  A  midnight
banquet, where purple wines bubble up in glittering goblets, and a rich feast is on the board,
where women stake the brightness of their eyes
against the brightness of their jewels, and where
chandeliers shed down a mockery of the day,
cannot bestow a delight so deep and perfect as a
walk in early spring-time in search of daisies and
anemones, where the goblet from  which you
drink is the brook that sings, even while you
quaff its cup of cold water:
"'I steal by lawns and grassy plots;
I slide by hazel covers;
Iwave the sweetforget-me-nots
Which grow for happy lovers.
"'I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the nettled sunbeam glance
Against my sandy shallows.'




LUCY IN THE CITY.            261
But daisies are old-fashioned.  So are walks by
the brookside. Some country damsels and their
swains may not have entirely deserted the bespangled meadow and the bubbling waters; but
they have gone from the hearts of the world's
people. Rusticity rests upon blue violets and
brooks. The ocean is still in favor; for the
ocean is grand, majestic, overwhelming, an old
aristocrat; and those who go to enjoy his society
can be lodged in palatial hotels, and are not
called upon to resign in his favor their waltzes,
their flirtations, their gauze dresses, their fine
horses, or their good dinners. All these necessary things are closely associated with their love
of his grandeur, their appreciation of his sublimity.  All the  enthusiasm  permitted to  a
refined nature may be expressed in his behalf
without exciting a pitying smile. One of' our
own' poets, whose lyre was modulated precisely
to accord with the souls of those he has so long
played for, says, only too truly"'You lie down to your shady slumber,
And awake with a bug in your ear;
And your milkmaid who walks in the morning
Is shod like a mountaineer'impressing very clearly the dangers of rustic sen



262          LUCY IN THE CITY.
timentality. To these fastidious and ethereal
beings,
"' A sly flirtation,
By the light of a chandelier,'
is the highest heaven to which they aspire. But
I beg your pardon, Miss W~ilmot; I am actually
preaching at a fancy ball. I have made myself
very stupid, no doubt, and will try and make
some amends by attending you to the supperroom, with your permission. Now, if all nations
could be as easily moved in one direction as their
motley representatives now are toward the eating department!"
We joined the crowd which were pressing into
the dining-room. It looked so queer to me to
see snch brilliant personages, courtly dames,
princes, nymphs, pages, Pagans, and Christians,
all engaged in eating, as if there was no other
occupation in the world, that I had rather look
and laugh than taste any of the dainties which
my chieftain brought me. There was a fairy, a
beautiful Titania, in an exquisite lace dress, that
looked as if about to melt into mist, and with
little silvery wings folded on her shoulders, eating salad, instead of sipping 4lower-dew. I saw
a queen, glittering with diamonds, sitting down




LUCY IN THE CITY.         263
in a chance corner, with a great plate full of
knick-knacks; a sentimental cavalier was stuffing himself with cold turkey; Othello was washing down his grief with champagne.
I must say, mother, I have seen more real
good manners at one of our paring-bees than I
saw there. You see, there was a great crowd;
and some people were so afraid that they would
get nothing, that there was actually a little of
what I should call scrambling, going on. The
ladies' appetites were not quite so dainty as their
dresses; and-if I must own it-I was certain
that more than one of the gentlemen took more
wine than was good for them.' A supper table is what I call your true
leveller, a real republican institution," said my
Scotchman. "'There's Queen Elizabeth hobnobbing over a plate of comfits with Davy
Crockett; and there's Ophelia consoling herself
with an ice. Isn't this a pleasant and instructive scene, Miss Wilmot a?"
I thought I detected a little sarcasm in his
voice; but I answered him that I was very much
entertained indeed, as it was all so new to me.
But he was not my only attendant. Everybody was very civil to me. "Was I enjoying




264          LUCY IN THE CITY.
myself? How pleased my uncle must be tot
have me in his house! he must be so lonely!
Why could I not spent the winter with him?
They hoped to have the pleasure of making my
better acquaintance very soon. What a pretty
character I had chosen! how becoming it was to
me!" etc. etc.
Once and a while, Uncle Eben would contrive
to get by my side; and then lie would tap my
cheek, and there would be such a quizzical
twinkle in his eyes that I could see he was very
much pleased about something.  "Just as I
expected," he said, once. "I see my little Daisy
is in full bloom, to-night.  Enjoying yourself,
are you?"
When he had opportunity, he would point
out and explain some of the dresses and characters to me. " Do you see that Sister of Charity?"
he whispered, toward the close of the ball.
" That is Mrs.  ~, the lady patroness of all the
charitable societies, benevolent institutions, etc.,
in the city. She spends her whole time doing
good. Those who do know say that she fastens
her sewing. girl down to the lowest price, and
pays her washerwomnan in cold victuals and old
clothes. But it would be heresy to doubt her




LUCY IN THE CITY.          265
self sacrificing virtue. Why, only lately she has
organized a society among the ladies of her
circle, called the'Greenland Fan Society.'
Through their exertions, a ship has been chartered, and a whole cargo of fans, dilapidated and
otherwise, collected from their fair owners, and
dispatched to Greenland, to relieve the poor
sufferers there from the heat; and it is expected
that fans will be found to be exceedingly useful
in promoting comfort, civilization, and Christianity.  Last winter, she distinguished herself,
by her indefatigable industry, in procuring subscriptions to purchase flannel petticoats for the
children of the South-Sea Islanders. But I cannot enumerate half her good works. She will
do that for herself, if you are so fortunate as to
make her acquaintance. There!" he whispered
again, " do you see that person in the garb of a
Persian poet, with a rose in his silken girdle, and
a lute in his hand. That is one of our authors.
He is coming this way, and will probably address
you a complimentary ditty."
As he came up to us, he said: "Water is
bright in the two wells that lie among the roses,
when the stars are in the sky above them; and
so are thine eyes, 0 maiden!"
12




266          L sCY TN TE CITY.
" Honey is sweet," I replied, " and so is the
breath of flattery; but it does not agree with all
tastes."
"I will not offer it to thy innocent lips, sweet
rustic," he replied; and, after a moment's pause,
he added: "HIave you ever perused any of my
couplets upon society?  Here is one of them:
To be simply ridiculous is absurd; but to be
supremely, inimitably ridiculous is sublime.
Look about you, and see if it is not thus."
I presume I looked as puzzled as I felt. Do
you see any sense in it, mother?
" What pretty little woman was that with the
basket of flowers?" I asked Uncle Eben, as I
saw he had had a long chat with her.
" Oh, that's my married friend whom I call
Bulbul!  She lets me into a great many of the
secrets of her acquaintance. For instance, she
has just told me that that dashing-looking creature there has not exactly a heart, but a bosom
of steel, and that she stains her eye-lashes, and
eats cologne-water on sugar to make her eyes
brighter. She'll be around here, to-morrow, and
get very intimate with you, I've no doubt. Well,
she's welcome to make use of all the' arts and
wiles' that she discovers in my little Lucy."




LUCY IN THE CITY.        267
And so the night passed away; and one by
one, and dozen by dozen the gorgeous guests
departed; and I stole to my bed a little before
the hour at which I usually rise, to dream confused dreams, in which knights, fairies, flowergirls, and lords whirled all together in a dizzy
waltz to the sweetest music. Wasn't it nice,
mother? Oh, I did so wish you were there, that
it quite marred my enjoyment!
Breakfast was quite ready when I got up that
morning, for it was as much as nine o'clock. I
was really ashamed of myself for such indolence.
Uncle Eben was waiting for me at the breakfasttable. " The drama being played," he remarked,
"I suppose the entertainment will conclude with
a farce. Do you know what you've got to do
to-day, little one? As soon as breakfast is over,
you must go and have that blue silk fitted; then
you must return and dress for calls. You will
have a few hundred to-day."
" What shall I wear, uncle.?"
"Oh, anything!.The best dress you have.
By the way, I have bought you a corded skirt, a
kind of compromise between your present slimness and crinoline —just enough to keep you
from total disgrace."




268          LUCY I THE CITY.
Uncle went with me to the mantuamaker's.;Don't you make that dress too low in the
neck; if you do, I'll denounce you," he said to
Madame -, as we were going into a back
room to take my measure.
She laughed and promised. Everybody seems
to like uncle, he is so good-natured, even when
he scolds.
When we came back, I went up-stairs to put
away my bonnet; and, when I came down, I
found uncle lying back in his chair, and laughing in a little low way. " IIere's the morning
paper," said he.  " Read the following report
of the'Fancy Dress Ball at the house of our
esteemed fellow-citizen, E —--- W —-—, Esq.'this paragraph in especial."
I cut it from the paper, mother, and preserved
it to read to you:
" But the belle, par excellence, after all, was
the accomplished and beautiful niece of the host,
the fair Mis-s L-  W-, a stranger in our
city, hnd now visiting at the house of her bachelor uncle. I1er dress was simplicity itself, perfectly appropriate to the character she personated, that of a country maiden; and never
were the words of the poet more enchantingly




LUCY IN THE CITY.           269
realized, that' loveliness needs not the foreign
aid of ornament.'  No splendor of the toilet
could have enhanced the brilliancy of that fresh
complexion, or the brightness of those dark blue
eyes. Her beauty is as piquant as it is fresh.
She acted her part with a charming naivete,
never forgetting what was due to the rustic
maiden; though the high-born grace of the lady
still gleamed through the enchanting disguise."
But I have strung out my story until it is
time to put the dinner up.  This afternoon, I
will finish it, dear mother.




CHAPTER III.
I  FELT like crying when I had finished reading the paper; and I told Uncle Eben it
was too bad to get a joke upon other people at
my expense. He said "they had got it on
themselves; and perhaps it would teach them a
lesson; that I need not feel bad about it. I had
been myself, and must continue to be so; and,
if they did not like me as well when they found
out that I was really a country girl, and not the
accomplished heiress they had taken me to be,
why, we could not help it. People need not
jump at conclusions. Because he had said that
a favorite niece was coming to see him, they
must needs go to thinking that nothing but
wealth and fashion could make her a favorite.
The young men, doubtless, supposed I had made
a will in your favor; and they would have said just
as many fine things as they did, if you had been
as homely as a mud fence. Never you mind,
2T0




LUCY IN THE CITY.         271
little one. The women may turn up their noses
in secret at your dress and manners; but they
will not dare to do it openly; and let me just
hint to the marriageable young men that I think
of adopting you, and my house will be besieged,
and would be if you were cross-eyed and pugnosed. I guess though there is one at least of
the number, who can appreciate modesty,
beauty, and true refinement, even where there is
no'foreign aid of ornament' to set it off."
Don't think me vain, mother, in repeating
what he said. IHe just said it, I.suppose, to
cheer me up.
I concluded to make the best of it; so I put
on the corded skirt, and my prettiest dress, next
to the white; and made my hair look as well as
possible, and reappered before my uncle to take
my part with him in receiving visitors.
I was glad they came in crowds, for I did not
have to say much; and it made it less embarrassing. But my eyes were opened now; and I
could see the looks of surprise, disappointment,
and mirth which were slily interchanged. Mly
self-respect coming to the rescue, I was able to
bear it very well. As for uncle, I could perceive that he was in the highest spirits; and I




272          LUCY IN THE CITY.
shouldn't wonder if some of the rest were sharp
enough to see it, too.
Just at dark, my new dress came home.
Uncle told me to go put it on, and he would take
me to the opera. You've seen it, mother. How
pretty it is made, with short sleeves and low in
the neck! I thought it was too low; but uncle
said "Pshaw! that was nothing!"  I was going
to don my leghorn bonnet: but he told me that
we were to ride, and that I might just throw my
veil over my head.  "Here," he said; "first
put these flowers in your hair."
I was dazzled, at first, by the lights and the
display; but, after we had sat in our box a few
moments, I began to take note of what was about
me. The ladies and gentlemen were dressed as
if for a party.  I could not help blushing,
mother, absolutely blushing, to see how some of
the former were attired. I asked uncle if those
were respectable women.
"The very condensed extract of respectability," was his reply.  "Don't be alarmed,
Lucy, at anything you may see. It takes so
much to make the skirts of the dresses, now-adays, that there is nothing left for the waist and
sleeves."




LUCY IN THE CITY.         273
"What are those queer little things they are
all holding?"
"Telescopes, to discover the stars, my dear.
I expect that you will be one of almost the first
nlagnitude, to-night."
I felt very uncomfortable to see so many of
the things pointed at me like so many pistols;
and I wished uncle had taken seats in a less conspicuous place ~but, when the overture, as they
call it, began to play, I was so enchanted I forgot everything. It was the sweetest music I
ever heard; and I almost imagined I was in
heaven, I was so rapt in it. The glittering
lights, the performers, the gay throng, all took
on a magical effect, and seemed to be lifted up
and floating away in an ethereal atmosphere.
Then a woman, elegantly dressed, glided on the
stage, and commenced a kind of half-speaking,
half-singing, looking at us appealingly, as if she
were in some trouble, and all of a sudden, as I
was looking earnestly at her, her bosom began
to heave; and she burst forth in a succession of
trembling shrieks that made me jump to my feet
in alarm. "':Mercy! what is the matter with
her?" I asked. But uncle pulled me down in
my seat, and told me, a little'sharply, not to




274          LUCY IN THE CITY.
make a goose of myself. I guess he was provoked at my stupidity, for he is very fond of the
oper~a. I must say, mother, I had rather hear
Jessie Clyde sing one of her ballads; but uncle
tells me I will think differently one of these
days, when my taste is more cultivated, and I
learn to  detect and feel all that the music
expresses.
During recess, several people left their boxes,
and came over to ours. Among them was Mr.
Fitz Foom, the young gentleman who played
Beau Brummell, at the party. He was excessively polite to me-didn't seem at all put out
by the discovery that I was a country girl and
didn't wear crinoline. I wish I could describe
him to you, mother. He was small, and he was
pale, and he was nice, oh, so nice! He had
hands about the size of mine, covered with kid
gloves, white as snow. IIe had a little bit of
silky, light-colored moustache, pale blue eyes,
and a face as expressive as a piece of paper with
nothing on it. He looked as if he had just been
taken out of a French bandbox, and smelt like a
dying musk-rose.  If you had seen him, so
dreadfully dainty, holding his opera-glass-that's
the telescope, as uncle calls it-and perfumed




LUCY IN THE CITY.        275
handkerchief; as if he was afraid to touch even
them, you'd have felt like taking him across your
lap, and spanking him, mother. Ie was such a
contrast to lMr. Hamilton-he's the one who was
my Highland chief-that he appeared more insignificant still. fir. Hamilton was tall, and
plainly dressed, and had no' gewgaws about him.
There was something deep and manly in his tone
that made Mr. Fitz Foom's lisping little voice
sound rather ridiculous.
" Wasn't you quite overcome by Mr. Fitz
Foom's attractions." asked uncle, as we rode
home. "I assure you, they conferred a great
deal of honor upon you."
"To tell the truth, dear uncle, I was thinking,
the most of the time, what a splendid figure he
would cut riding round the yard upon Sukey's
horns. Oh, dear! wouldn't I like to invite him
out in the country, and frighten him out of his
five exquisite senses with a few little harmless
tricks!"
" Good!" he laughed.  "Perhaps we can
bring it about, for-let me tell you a secret-the
young gentleman is in love with you."
"With me! What do you mean?"
" Oh, I've not had my eyes in use for forty




276          LUCY IN THE CITY.
years for nothing! He's in love-not with your
eyes, or hair, or fresh young face, or modest,
affectionate heart-but with your prospects; for
I have slily insinuated to him that your father
is worth fifty thousand, and that you were, of all
my nieces, my favorite. You must forgive me,
Daisy; but I wanted to see the result."
" Well, uncle, I must say you take great liberties with my good nature."
"It's nothing serious, my dear, just to be
bothered with his attentions a week. It won't
hurt you nor him."
I thought uncle was mistaken in his surmises;
but the very next morning there came a beautiful bouquet, with the compliments of Mr. Fitz
Foom.
"Poor Fitz Foom! I wonder if he got trusted
for it?" remarked Uncle Eben. "I expect he
needs a wife very much to pay his tailor's and
perfumer's bills for him. The price of kid gloves
is rising, too; and that's more fatal to his interests than a rise in the sugar market."
WYe had a great many calls that day, also. I
got heartily tired of them. I wanted to sit in the
library, and read some of the many attractive
books I found there. If I did not love you, and




LUCY IN THE CITY.        277
father, and my old home so much, I should like
to be Uncle Eben's housekeeper. That library
is such a pleasant place! WVe breakfast in it;
and then there are the morning papers and all
the new books; and it has such a snug, comfortable look. There are pictures, and a case of
minerals, and shells, and fossils, and a bust of
Shakspeare, and so many interesting things.
In the evening, we went to see the Ravels;
and there I was amused! It is worth a trip to
New York. You've read about them, mother?
They don't speak a word. All their playing's
done in pantomime. You and father must take
a trip down to the city, some time, and see Uncle Eben, and the town, and the Ravels. What?
You guess you'll have to be making visits there
before long, if you want to see your daughter?
Pshaw, ma! you'd better wait until uncle asks
me to live with him. You was't thinking of uncle's asking? Well, wait till you hear about Mr.
Fitz Foom, then.
For the next few days, we kept pretty quiet,
for I wanted all my mornings to pass in the
library. We took some delightful walks in the
afternoons. Uncle Eben would take so much
pains to explain things to me! I couldn't help




278          LTCY IN THE CITY.
noticing the little girls and boys that we metminiature men and women. Their faces were as
pale as flowers grown in a cellar; and they Lad
the composed stare and preternatural self-possession of their elders, as well as the fine and expensive dress. I declare it made my heart ache
to see them; and I longed to ask some of the
pretty little girls to go home with me, and learn
to slide down the straw-stack, climb the chestnut-tree, feed the chickens, and ride the pony.
I don't believe they ever saw a ten-acre lot in
their lives, or plucked a violet out of the grass, or
ate mush and milk with the cream stirred in.
I'm so glad I was not born a city child, for then
I should have no such delightful recollections of
playing in the farm.
I spoke about the children to uncle.
" Children!" said he, contemptuously; "there
are none now-a-days. I used to love little girls
above all things-the artless, willful, romping,
modest, rosy little girls, in pantalets and pinafores. I could have sacrificed anything to them
-my afternoon nap, or my smok'ng-cap to make
a doll-baby of. They might have pulled my
whiskers out, and spilled my ink on the carpet,
and I wouldn't have winced. But now-humph!




LUCY IN THE CITY.         279
A few nights ago, I was at an assembly; and it
was nearly midnight when I first observed what
I took to be a cunning puppet in imitation of the
lady of the house-a little doll-like thing, in a
dress with five flounces, with a bouquet, fan and
lace handkerchief, a miniature of every mature
grace, and the centre of an admiring circle. But
what I took to be a thing of art was really not a
puppet, but the daughter of the lady of the
house, six years of age. She was bandying compliments with the ease of a woman of the world.
Her mother introduced me..  ith that want of
tact which makes me so absurd, I addressed her
as if she had been an ordinary little girl —' hMy
dear, are you not sleepy? " Early to bed," you
know, etc.'  Ah, I had lost all chance of ever
being friendly with her, kindly as my intentions
were! Her cheek flushed with disdain.' I remain until after supper,' she replied, in the
freezing tone so well calculated to check any
further advances upon my part."
I don't always quite understand Uncle Eben.
Once, when we passed a pompous-looking man,
who bowed to him, I asked who he was.
" Oh, that," said he, " is a fine, portly old gentleman whom  everybody esteems!  He was




280          LUCY IN THE CITY.
lately the president of a company for the manufacture of gold coins out of gas. The shares rose
so high that speculators had to go up in balloons
to take them; but, unfortunately, the gas proved
explosive, burst, and ruined the company. The
coins fell into the laps of the directors; and the
rest got nothing but the gas. The president,
overcome by his misfortunes, immediately retired
into a brown stone mansion on Fifth Avenue,
and has abstained from any but the most exclusive society ever since. HIe has been much commiserated by his friends; and I think it helped
him to marry off his daughter, the young creature we saw playing Beauty to the Beast, the
other night. We all sympathize with adversity,
you know."
"You are trying to puzzle, aren't you." I
asked.
"Maybe.  But don't bother your innocent
brains about it. Come in here, and I will buy
you some bonbons."
We went into an elegant saloon.
"I used to think dissipation confined to my
own sex," he continued; "but, if you hllad frequented this establishment as long as I, you
would become convinced that we are not guilty




LUCY IN THE CITY.        281
of all that may be classed under that head.
WVhen I have seen fashionable mothers here at
midnight, lavishing their smiles upon gentlemen
not their husbands; and sipping luxurious refreshments, and have thought of their poor infantsg at
home —abandoned to the tender mercy of Bridgets, as fond of a little stealthy enjoyment as
themselves in a less refined way, and giving the
helpless little ones anodynes to secure themselves
leisure for an hour in the basement dining-room
— I have shuddered at the picture conjured up.
Do you wonder I do not marry? But mercy!
whom am I talking to? My little Lucy must
forget what I have said. Let her always keep
her own affectionate heart and unsullied conscience, and believe that every one else is as
pure as herself."
We met MIr. Fitz Foom in the.saloon; and he
asked permission to call in the evening, if we were
not engaged out. My uncle told him we were not,
and should be happy to see him-very happy.
He looked delighted. Still, I saw him enjoy,
with an indescribable, despairing glance, my
morocco shoes and pink silk gloves. "He feels
like a lamb about to be butchered, and is endeavoring to prepare himself for the sacrifice," I




282          LUCY IN TRiE CITY.
thought. " He will tell me how to dress in better taste when he acquires the right to instruct."
Mr. Fitz Foom was faithful to his engagement,
comining in all milk-and-water smiles, perfumes,
and politeness. I was so provoked, I didn't
know what to do, when uncle got up and begged
to be excused for half an hour to write an important letter.
lie had not been out of the room over five
minutes when MSir. Fitz Foom was on one knee
before me, asking me to marry him. fHow it
came about, I cannot tell to this day. Ile took
me all of a sudden, before I had time to put on
any precautionary reserve. IHe did it very
prettily, with two fingers of his snowy hand
pressed against the padding on the left side of
his vest.
I was dreadfully embarrassed at first, and could
hardly summon self-possession enough to draw
away the hand which he attempted to take.
But, as I looked down at the dainty creature,
thrown into a studied attitude, and not one shade
of doubt upon his expectant face, a little feeling
of anger drew away timidity. But he was too
insignificant for anger; and, when he murmured,
rhapsodically, "Miss Wilmot, the happiness of a




LUCY IN THE CITY.         283
virgin heart, that has never hitherto breathed its
affections upon earthly shrine, is hanging upon
your lips," a vision of his " virgin heart," stuffed
full of unpaid bills, arose before me, and I
laughed.
" If your happiness is hanging upon my lips, I
am afraid it will get a fall," I said. " I do not
think there is any congeniality between us. I
could not think of marrying you, Mir. Fitz
Foom."
" Oh, I'm sure there is, Miss Wilmot! I have
thought of nothing else since the first moment I
met you."
" But I am a plain country girl" (he raised
his hands in deprecation); " and you are an elegant man of the world" (here he smiled, and
tried to look modest), "a kind of butterfly,'roving from flower to flower.' Your hands are
very white and soft, much more so than mine;
and, if you married me, you would soon grow
tired of country life. Besides, your wrists are
not strong enough for milking; and I am
resolved that the man I marry must milk all the
COws."
His eyes opened wider than they ever had
done before.




284          LUCY IN THE CITY.
" But why need we live in the country at all 
Of course, I should be afraid of the cows. They
are horrid creatures. It was not my intention
that we should reside "
"'But you see we cannot do as we please. I
understand that you do not possess much available property yourself; and my fortune depends
at present upon the will of my father. He
wishes me to marry some one to take the charge
of the farm off his hands. He is getting a little
infirm.with years, and would welcome a smart,
capable son-in-law, who could guide the plough,
take care of the stock, haul the grain to market,
and oversee things generally. If you will promise to do this, I don't know-though it's rather
sudden-but-perhaps "" Oh, I cannot accept you upon such terms!"
he exclaimed, with an expression of horror, as he
arose from his knee, and retreated a step or two.
"You would have to eat pork and boiled
victuals in the kitchen along with the men, or
else they would say you felt above them, and
would refuse to work for you. One thing,
though, would be nice-coming to town to sell
our butter and eggs, and dropping in to Uncle
Eben's to dinner."




LUCY IN THE CITY.        285
" I should perish-of —disgust!" he murmured,
in despair. "That certainly wouldn't pay. I
couldn't think of it.  I must bid you a very
good eve "   IHere the thought of a dun which
w-as dogging him came over him, perhaps, and
urged him back to another trial. " Re-ally, now,
Miss Wilmot, why wouldn't your uncle give us
a home here, and be done with it? It would be
so agreeable all round."
"Well, I don't know. Perhaps if you should
ask him, he would suspect you of mercenary
motives."
" He would do me the greatest injustice, then,
my angelic Lucy. I swear to you"
" But it's wicked to swear."
" That, for your dear sake, I would go
through " —
"The barnyard to drive up the cows for me
to milk 2"
"That without you I shall be a broken"
" Down adventurer."
"' I believe you mean to insult me, Mliss Wilmot," he said, at this, retreating toward the
door, just as it was thrown open for Mr. Hamilton to enter. I blushed; and Mr. Fitz Foom
made a hasty exit.




286          LUCY IN THE CITY.
Mr. Hamilton was constrained in his manners;
and I was very glad to see Uncle Eben coining
to the rescue. "hIa, Puss! you were rather
saucy," he cried, as he came in. "But served
him right! served him right!  Bless my soul!
but didn't the picture you drew frighten him 2"
" Why, uncle! have you been"
" Listening?  Yes, the whole time.  Little
Daisy, here, has been trying to strike up a bargain with Fitz Foom, to tend her dairy for her,
Mr. Hamilton."'
"'Oh, uncle!" I cried. And then I ran out
of the room, and left them to themselves.
You are getting tired; aren't you, mother?
Well, would you believe that, two or three days
before I came away, Mlr. Fitz Foom came back
again, and was so good-natured and so insensible
that I had to forgive him? He is determined
not to give up the ship. I expect' he's in very
straitened circumstances.  I felt like offering
him the loan of my purse, with all my ten dollars of spending money. But I recollected that
you needed a merino dress for winter; and,
as Uncle Eben was as good as to buy me everything I wanted, I bought the dress for you; and
uncle added the muff and tippet. Aren't they




LUCY IN THE CITr.        287
nice? iHe's such a dear, queer man; isn't he?
Uncle Eben, I mean. I am so glad he has invited me to visit him, for, despite of all my
blunders, I enjoyed myself so much, and saw so
many new things; and Mr. Fitz Foom told me
he was coming out to visit us before long —and
-and-what makes me so red in the face. WVhy,
I don't know but I am-but-Uncle Eben is
coming out, next month; and he's going to bring
_Mr. Hamilton with him. He wants you to make
his acquaintance, he thinks so highly of himand-dear me, how warm it is here? Don't you
think so, mother?








MR. FITZ  FOOM  IN  THE  COUNTRY.
A SEQUEL TO LUCY IN THE CITY.
DEAR UNCLE EBEN:
IT'S well that you are a hundred miles away
from your indignant niece, if you want to
save your hair from a most unmerciful pulling!
What, in the name of sense, possessed you to
send Mr. Fitz Foom out here to visit me?
Knowing everything as well as you do, I must
say that the joke was extremely practical, at my
expense as well as his. Poor fellow! he left,
this morning, after a visit of three days, having
come, I understood, with the intention of remaining as many weeks.
Last Tuesday forenoon, as I was busy in the
kitchen, for it was baking day, and I had a great
deal to do, there came a knock at the front door.
Supposing it to be some of the neighbors, I just
slipped off my apron, rolled down my sleeves,
gave my hair a dash down with my hands, and
13.




290    MR. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY.
hurried to open it. Judge of my surprise, when
there stood MIr. Fitz Foom, a jaunty little cloak
and cap on, a little cane twirled in his fingers,
and a smile upon his pretty little face, as exquisite a specimen of a small man as could be
imagined! I was so taken aback that I could
hardly ask him in, and could not forbear a sly
glance at a long streak of flour which ornamented the side breadth of my gingham dress,
and which I had gained in passing the flour-barrel on my last errand to the- paitry. I saw him
looking in the same direction; but he smothered
any horror which he may have inwardly felt at
this betrayal of my morning occupations.
" I suppose you received the note which I sent
you by post announcing my intended visit, lMiss
Wilmot'?"
No; I had not received it. I mutely wished
that I had, when I thought of how little we
were prepared for such company.
" You must pardon the very great liberty 1
have taken in accepting your uncle's invitation,
who insisted upon my coming to see you without further ceremony than the sending of a note.
HIe thought the country air would do me good,
as I was complaining of dyspepsia. That my




MR. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY.    291
own heart pleaded with me to yield to his kind
persuasions, I will not say, for I am forced to
silence.  I have sworn that, whatever that beating heart may feel, its emotions shall be kept
secret from their fair and agitating cause. Do
aot blush, sweet being; I have come only as a
friend."
I suppose you will call me a silly little girt if
I confess that my face was redder than a pulpitcushion for a. minute or two; but his manner
was so very impressive and overpowering, and
his appearance so unexpected, that I was discomposed. I gave him as cordial a welcome as I
could counterfeit. A queer look came over his
face when he entered the keeping-room.  He
seemed a little afraid of hurting his patent
leathers by bringing them in contact with the
home-made carpet; and I saw the critical glance
which he gave at father's favorite picture, the
portrait of Washington, which  hangs, you
remember, over the mantel, with the china dog
under it.
It was a splendid Indian-summer day; and I
thought the room was very pretty.  The sunshine came in the two front windows; and I had
looped the curtains back with sprays of scarlet




292    MR. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY.
bittersweet, and made everything as neat as a
pink. I gave him a seat by the window, and
excused myself for a few moments, to go out
and give mother warning of the unexpected
guest.  She laughed heartily when I told her
that Mr. Fitz Foom had arrived with his carpetbag; which relieved me, for I expected she
would be vexed to death.
"Well, well, Lucy! who'd have thought it?
I guess I shall not let you go to the city again.
Never mind about the dinner, child. I'll get it
on the table without further help.  Go and put
on your merino dress, and do the best you can
to be polite to him."
I had made a nice custard, and set it to cool;
and there was a plump pair of chickens in the
oven; so I gave myself no uneasiness about the
table. Ten minutes sufficed me in which to don
my dress, smooth my hair, and put on a linen
collar. When I returned to the keeping-room,
there sat the visitor looking disconsolately out of
the window, a very visible shade of disappointment upon his face.  "You've a very pretty
place here, Miss Lucy, but not at all what I
expected from the description of your uncle.
He gave me to understand that the house was a




MR. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY.    293
Grecian villa, standing in the midst of a noble
forest of oaks, with a park stretching away upon
one side, and with out-buildings and gateways
of the most tasteful and appropriate character,"
he remarked. "I could hardly persuade myself
that I had been directed aright-not that everything is not very nice, indeed, but so different,
you know, from what I had been led to expect."
" Uncle WVilrnot has a very vivid imagination,
Mr. Fitz Foom; and you must make allowance
for its exercise. It's only one of his standing
jokes, calling this a Grease-ian villa, because
father raises so much pork. The out-buildings
are'appropriate' to the business, as you would
think, if you should see all the pig-pens. tHe
calls the hen-house an aviary, and the Shanghais
foreign birds. The meadow is the park. As for
the old oak-trees, he could not praise them too
much."
The very slightest tremble of disgust disturbed
the moustache upon his patrician lip as I spoke
of the Grecian villa. It was a pun too horrible
for him to contemplate, and for which you,
dear uncle, must be solely responsible.  IHe
looked about, as if mutely asking for his hat, but,
after a moment of troubled silence, regained a
forced composure.




294    MR. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY.
" And is pork-raising a profitable business,
Mliss Wilmot?"
" 1 believe it is regarded as such; but I cannot
positively say."
"I How much do you think-that is, has your
father laid up any particular sum of money out
of it 2"
"I do not know just how much, Mr. Fitz
Foom. And you must not think that it is his
especial calling.  Mhy father is a farmer, who
raises wheat and corn. But out of the refuge of
his fields, he has enough to fatten a few droves.
I suppose you know but little of the country, Mr.
Fitz Foom?"
" Very little, indeed. I've been in it occasionally, for a day or two, with a party of friends,
rusticating on the estate of some wealthy gentleman. I don't think I should like the country.
It's very nice to talk about, but very vulgar
close at hand.  I don't see how so ethereal a
being as yourself, M[iss Lucy, could have survived so long in it. I trust that soon the persuasions of friends, of'your uncle; and —and
your humble servant, will induce you to forsake
it?"
" My heart is wedded to it; it is my home;
and I love it, sir."




Im. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY.    295
" If we could wed that virgin heart to solmetlling better! lie! he! he B! [ut I will not again
call up those divine blushes."
" The day is lovely; would you like to walk
over the farm a little, before dinner, [Mr. Fitz
Foom?" I asked, anxious to escape from an eloquence so overwhelming.
I swung my straw hat on my arm; and we
sallied forth.  I noticed that lie shivered a little
in the cool, bright air, which only invigorated
me, and made me feel mischievous, too, in myv
overflow of animal spirits. As we sauntered
under the oaks, I gathered the most brilliant of
the dropping leaves, and wove them in a wreath,
with which I offered to crown his "Beebe's
best;" but he was afraid of disturbing its gloss;
and so I donned the garland myself, and
laughed, without any more blushes, at his profuse compliments. Poor fellow!  I suppose it's
up-hill business to him, getting trusted for his
new clothes; and I felt for him in the pains lhe
took with his hat; and, when he split the knee
of his pantaloons getting over the fence into the
lmeadow, my condolences were sincere.
" It's the only pair I have with me," he said,
with a rueful smile.




296    MR. FITZ FOOM IN TIIE COUNTRY.
" Never mind! Mother will mend them for
you, after you go to bed to-night, if you will put
them out in the hall."
"But I never wore anything patched in my
life."
"That will not need patching, only darning,
which is not so bad; and everybody wears
patched clothes in the country. Isn't it pretty
from here-this meadow sloping away, and
girdled about with that silver stream?"
" Charming! ah! very! good farm land, eh?9'
"Very good for grazing and hay, sir."
" How many acres are there in your father's
farm 2"
1" Three hundred. One hundred is grain land,
one hundred pasturage, and one hundred timber.
The pigs fatten themselves upon the acorns in
the woods. The wheat is near to a good market;
and the dairy is very profitable indeed. Do you
see that cow down by the creek? She is mine,
and my especial pet. She is worth five hundred
dollars; and I'd rather have her than a set of
pearls. Then I have all the money I can make
from  selling her butter, for pocket-mloney.
Now, commend me, 3Mr. Fitz Foom! I see that
you are of an eminently practical turn of mind;




11R. FITZ F00OMI IN THE COUNTRY.    297
and I wish to show you that I understand all
about the utilities."
" Such beauty with such sense is seldom combined," he answered, with a flourish of his ratan,
beginning to recover his spirits after the dampening effects of the tear in his breeches.
At this instant, that old Shanghai chanticleer,
whose notes are so famous for their resemblance
to a Chinese gong, from which he probably took
lessons in his infancy, and who, by some extra
feat of agility, had flown from the fence to the
nearest branch of a tree which hung over it, and
under which we were standing, without a single
flap of premonition announced high noon by one
of his sudden and unearthly crows. It was close
by our ears, and startled even me. You ought
to have seen Fitz's face. Ile looked as if the
earth and sky were coming together, and he did
not know where to flee for safety.
" For HIeaven's sake, Miss Wilmot, what was
that?"
"Oh, that was a country clock striking the
hour of noon!" I answered, gravely.
"' Bless me! was it?  Give me a city bell"
(perhaps he will say city belle by this time) "in
preference. How it jars upon one's ears I What
13*




298    MR. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY.
is this in the tree above us-an owl, IZiss Wil
mot?"
" That, sir, is the Chinese Bird of Paradise."
" Aw 2?"
At that instant, Betty Stout came out on the
back porch, and blew the dinner horn. Betty is
the daughter of a man who helps father farm,
and who comes whenever we require extra service in the kitchen. She does our washing, and
makes most of the butter and cheese. She is a
good girl, with a Dutch form, and sunburnt arms
and face.
"That is the summons to dinner," said I.
And we wended our way back to the house.
I introduced my guest to father and mother in
the dining-room. Father had taken the.trouble
to put on his coat; and mother had donned a
cap and her alpaca dress. They shook hands
with Mr. Fitz Foom, who made some excruciating flourishes. He was bent upon pleasing; but
in this he made one mistake. I introduced him
to Miss Betty Stout-if I had not, she would
never have set foot in the house again-and lihe
gave her so cold a stare, and so slight a bowv, that
I saw at once she was offended. We sat down
to table. I will give the young gentleman the




MR. FITZ FOOM IN THIlE COUNTRY.    299
credit of trying not to appear to observe our
outre arrangements; but his eyes would wander
covertly to the Britannia coffee-pot, the steel
forks, and to the form of Miss Betsey, who sat
opposite him. Two or three times, papa gave me
such a sly look, and a jerk of the thunmb, indicating so much farmer-like contempt for my " city
beau," that I was fain to laugh in my sleeve.
I will also do MIr. Fitz Foom the justice to
declare that his appetite was good, despite of his
dyspepsia; and that he pleased mother by his
appreciation of her roast chickens with fresh
apple-sauce, her coffee with cream, her delightful
butter, honey, warm biscuits, and my dessert iof
custard, apples, walnuts, etc. If he could have
finished off with a bottle of sherry, I think he
would have been content. As it was, he sipped
a glass of papa's cider-brandy with him, and forgot, for a time, the rent in his trowsers.
After dinner, mother brought her work-basket,
and we sat down in the front room, where we
had been talking but a little while, when a
neighbor's boy came in to ask me to a cornhusking that evening at Sally Birch's. I was
glad of the bid, for I was beginning to dread an
evening alone with Fitz Foom.




300    MR. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY.
"Shall I accept for us both?  You ought to
go to a country corn-husking, MIr. Fitz Foom.
It will be something for you to think of when
you get back to *he opera."
"Wherever Miss Lucy leads, I shall be but
too happy"IHis speech was cut short by his eyes falling
upon his pantaloons. If he went to a country
party, he wished to be able to dazzle all eyes;
and how could he with that hole staring him in
the face?
" Oh, never mind that!" said my good mother,
who saw his difficulty. " I can mend that in ten
minutes, and press it out so that it will never be
seen. Will you go to your room, now, and leave
your pantaloons on the balusters?"
We all laughed at the idea; but, as there was
no other way, my elegant visitor retired to the
shades of his private apartment, while mother
mended his breeches. Just as she had finished
darning them, and had gone into the kitchen to
press them out, there came another knock at the
door. I opened it, and there-but of course you
know who was there! Wb at an inveterate tease
you axe, uncle, to send two young gentlemen to
this house on the same day to play at cross piar



MR. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRT.   301
poses! I suppose I need not be afraid to confide
to my good old bachelor uncle that I was glad
there was no one by to detect the blush with
which I welcomed my Highland Chief. I was
expecting him, and had prepared my parents to
expect him, but not so soon.
I do not know which of the two was the more
astonished when the other gentleman reappeared.
Neither of them seemed particularly charmed
with the other.* I had all I could do to entertain
them until tea; and silence would have fallen on
us more than once, if dear mother had not come
to the rescue with her pleasant and sensible
observations.
The tea hour came at last. It was with a
tremor, that almost made my voice falter, that I
introduced my last guest to father. I was afraid
of his keen eyes and solid judgment. Yet I do
not know that I had so much cause for fear. My
Chief entered at. once into conversation with a
dignity and courtesy very becoming under the
circumstances. I knew papa was pleased, when
I saw his brow expand, and his glance grow
more smiling.
Immediately after tea, it was time to start for
the husking, as we had nearly a mile to walk,




302    MR. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY.
and were expected early, the work being an im
portant part of the evening's entertainmleilt.
Betty Stout was one of our party, of course.
She is an independent piece, considering herself
as good as anybody, and is treated as such by all
the neighbors. She was going to start on in advance, and leave me with my "city fellows;"
but my Chief stepped forward with so much respect, and offered her his arm, that she could not
refuse it. As for me, I admired the way in
which the action was performed so highly, that
I scarcely regretted my own disappointment.
"HI'ow very barbarous it is for people in the
country to associate so intimately with their servants!" whispered my companion.
"Miss Stout is not a common servant," I said,
in excuse.
There were plenty of whispering and wise
glances among the crowd, when we arrived at the
barn-for corn-soirees are held in barns, my dear
uncle. The girls looked pleased, and the beaux
jealous, as the strangers were introduced to
them.
A circle had already been formed around the
heap of corn in the centre of the floor; and,
after a few moments' bustle, places were made




M1R. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY.    303
for us, and we set to work. Brimming with mischief (shall I write it, spite?) and totally regardless of Air. Fitz Foom's pleading looks, I gave
him  a seat on the floor beside Miss Prudence
Tattle, a thin old maid, who prided herself principally upon her learning and accomplishments,
so superior to most of her friends and acquaintances. Myself and the Highlander were established near at hand, where I could enjoy some
of Mr. Fitz's queer faces, and a part of Miss
Prudence's instructive conversation. "Ali me!"
I heard her remarking, and signalled to my
companion to listen; "so you have actually
resided in the city all your life, Mr. Fitz Fool?"
" Foom, madam," corrected he.
"Foom? I beg your pardon. How very enlighlltened such a long residence in the metropolan
must render you! Ah, I have ever sighed for
opportunities of expanding my mind. And so
much chance for doing good, too! Iwas in the
city, last yearj for a few days. I visited the
Society for the Relief of Indignant Women, and
contributed fifty cents. I went to the opera, too.
Oh me! isn't it delightful?  I was so perfectly
vaccinated by Madame Lagrange's voice, that I
did not know where I was. She has a beautiful




304:   MR. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY.
mezzotinto voice of the first quality. She is rich,
too. The gentleman who took me told me she
had a chest full of notes, and a register, besides.
Oh, she has great volubility of tone! don't you
think so?  Mercy! Mr. Fitz Foom! if you
haven't got a red ear!"
She screamed the last sentence out so loudly,
that we all heard it, and paused from our tasks.
Hler companion looked as if he might have two
red ears.
" Do you know the penalty a?" eagerly inquired
Miss Prudence.
" I must confess my ignorance," was the
reply.
"Tell him! tell him!" laughed half a dozen
pretty girls.
"It is to kiss every girl in the room, beginning
with your partner," chuckled Miss Prudence.
And she puckered up her sharp mouth into a
hundred wrinkles, as she turned, with a woinrnin,
smile, to receive the salute.
Poor fellow! he hesitated; the boys lauighed;
the girls tittered; Miss Prudence puckered up
her mouth still more sweetly. He looked again
at those lips, then bent and kissed her hand most
gallantly; but Miss Tattle dts evidently disap



MR. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY.    305
pointed. I will confess that he did up the rest
of the kissing more con amore; but, when he
came to me, I gave him my hand; and he was
obliged to treat me as he did MIiss Prudence.
When it came to the dancing, in the latter part
of the evening, [Mr. Fitz Foom was still unfortunate. He did not understand "l)Money-MIusk"
nor " Scotch Reel." I danced two cotillions with
him; and the rest of the time he was entertained
by Mliss Tattle in the corner.
Well, the next day, misfortunes seemed still to
pursue him. I proposed a ride on horsebaek,
between breakfast and dinner, as the weather
was delightful, full of the balm  and brightness
of Indian summer. As Mr. Fitz Foom had been
boasting of his feats at the riding-academy, he
could not very well decline. You know father
keeps fine horses; and, as he gathered from the
young gentleman's own story that lie was a
famous rider, he gave him one of his most
spirited animals. I rode my beautiful "Brownie;"
and my Highlander had the black horse that
you used to ride. WVe called at neighbor Grey's,
and got his pretty Amy to accompany us. We
were all in fine spirits. Amy was such a gay
little gipsy, she delighted us all. But, as Mr.
Fitz's horse became inspirited by exercise, and




306    MR. FITZ FOOM IN TIIE COUNTRY.
we left the macadamized road for the winding
and sometimes rocky by-roads, which took us
through a more romantic part of the country, I
saw that the poor fellow had all he could do to
hold on. Ile ceased to jest; he ceased to pay
compliments; he grew silent, for all his energies
were absorbed in clinging to his bridle and stirrups, and occasionally to his horse's neck and
mane. Amy proposed a race. WVe started, notwithstanding Fitz's entreaties to "  Hold on!"' "He's'holding on' fast enough for us all,"
laughed Amy.
His horse, more ambitious than his master, was
to be distanced by nothing in that party, and
soon passed us all in gallant style, with his rider's
arms about his neck.  A sudden turn in the
forest road took him out of sight; and, when we
finally came up with him, he was sitting by the
roadside on a stump, holding " Bedouin" by the
bridle. Whether he had been thrown, or got off
of his own accord, he did not say. He only
begged to exchange horses with the other gentleman, as " Bedouin" was so very hard under the
saddle that he was tired out. W~e rode homze
slowly, and found dinner waiting. Amy dined
with us.
Immediately after the meal was over, MIr. Fitz




MR. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY.    307
Foom was obliged to take to the sofa. I-Ie was
unable to make the exertion of waiting upon
Amy home; so we left him to a siesta, and
escorted our fair friend to her door.
What was said upon that memorable return
walk, I shall never hint-never, to my sober old
bachelor uncle! A sudden glory, that was not
all effected by the Indian summer sunshine, came
down upon the world. But no sentimentality to
be laughed at by an old fogy uncle! So I shall
not tell you any more, if you tease me ever so
much. Suffice it to say that that evening my
Highlander gave papa the letter which you sent
him; and he and mother sat up late in the dining-room, before the wood fire, reading and talking it over.
Mr. Fitz Foom tried hard, that evening, to
outsit his rival in regular country style. He was
evidently afraid that the path was not quite
clear. But the fatigue of his ride overpowered
him; and secretly borrowing of mother a bottle
of Ready Relief for some bruise which he may
have received by that unseen downfall. he retired
in distress and disgust.
Another very bright day followed on. Fitz
seemed in better spirits, and declared a desire to




308    MR. FITZ FOOMI IN THE COUNTRY.
become somewhat better acquainted with some
of the details of country life.  A visit to the
cheese-press, the dairy-house, the " aviary," the
cider-mill, and the great barn was proposed.
We strolled about from spot to spot; and I astonished my exquisite Fitz by vivid descriptions of
sundry slides down the straw stack, and rides
upon " Sukey's " back, and childish feats in that
great juvenile gymnasium, that paradise of children-the barn.
When we entered the aforementioned barn, we
found father and his men at work there getting
ready for our corn-husking. Father left off to
call us out in the yard, and expatiate upon his
stock. Everybody has his weakness, and dear
papa's is his fine stock. He pointed out a pair
of noble Devonshire oxen that were ranging in
the meadow opening out of the barnyard, and my
dear little cow, " Sukey," with four or five others,
who were at the water-trough. lie has about
twenty merinoes; and, wishing to show to my
Highlander (who pleased him by talking understandingly with him) the superior quality of the
wool, he called them out. of the field; and they
came running for the salt which they expected to
find in his hand.




MR. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY.    309
" What are those creatures.?" asked Mr. Fitz
Foom, affectedly, as the flock came running and
crowding about.
" Those are sheep."
" Aw! are they, indeed? This is the first time
I ever beheld a genuine specimen of those pastoral animals, so conspicuous in poetry and rural
scenes. Sheep, aw?"
I know not whether the veteran leader of the
flock took offence at this declaration of a previous neglect to pay his respects to the tribe, or
whether the red scarf which Mr Fitz had thrown
over his shoulders upon coming out, excited his ire,
but at that instant I saw him lowering his horns,
and had just time to exclaim "Take care!" when
he hit Fitz a square blow in the stomach, which
prostrated him quick as thought.  Before he
could make another spring, Fitz was on his feet,
and took refuge in the barn. The fiery merino
was after him; and they both disappeared
through the opposite door. W~Ve all started in
pursuit, hoping to arrest the offender.
Three times the two lnade the circuit of the
barn. Fitz's scarf streamed out behind, adding
fury to the hot pursuit. Father did his best to
lknock the beast down with a rail, but could not




310.    MR. FITZ FOOM-A 0' THlE COIJNTRIY.
come near him.  We all formed a line, and
attempted to head him off; but he broke through
our midst, after a momentary parley.  This
moment of grace enabled Fitz to make for the
I         _ _ _ _   _ 
<i e6                                  I'Z
field; but the g ate.as opena  lie was too
frigchtened to close it. The Shanghais crowed,
the sheep blea,:ea, the cows paused from  their
drink in astonishment; Betty Stont wo hated l
V  ~~~   _
drinkr in astonishment; lBetty S~t~out, who hated!




MR. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY.    311
poor Fitz for his slight of her, sprang up on the
fence, and laughed, and clapped her hands.
When he had got well into the meadow, Fitz
turned to see if he were safe: but, oh, horror of
horrors! not only was the ram closp at his heels,
but " Sukey," the big oxen, the sheep, and horses
had all joined in the general stampede, and were
tearing up the grass in every direction. WVith a
shriek of terror, he dropped to the ground; he
"could no more;" he had fainted from sheer
aifright.  Father, who was still sanguine of a
rescue, came up to him just as the ram, disappointed in his calculation by the sudden fall,
went over his prostrate body, and, awed by
papa's club, gave up the chase.
Poor Fitz! his clothes were pretty well used up,
and his Strength completely so. Hie took to his
bed, with but a poor appetite for the dainties my
compassionate mother cooked up for him. This
morning, he packed his carpet-bag,, and bade us
farewell. "I had inducements held out to me
by Mr. Wilmot to come here," he said, as he
bade me a cold good bye; " but they are not sufficient to attract me to remain in the country.  I
consider it both vulgar and dangerous, but am
glad if you find it to your taste. No: I thank




312    MR. FITZ FOOM IN THE COUNTRY.
you for your polite invitations; but I shall not
trouble you with further visits."
"' Will you not even come to the wedding?"
asked my Highlander, with what I must consider
rather ungenerous kindness.
A glance of anger and a stiff bow were the
only answer. Now, uncle, if it is true, as I have
been told, that you encouraged him to come, and
that he got trusted for his new suit of clothes on
the strength of his expected success, I think you
are in honor bound to pay for the suit which he
ruined, and to make him a present of another
besides.
Aly HIighland Chief has not yet departed, and
is grumbling because I have given you so much
time. Isn't that ungrateful of him? Father and
mother send much love. I expect to be in the
city before long to do a little shopping, when I
shall need your advice in choosing certain-but
good bye, with many kisses.
Yours affectionately,
LucY.
THE END.