“I don't care for that, Fanny,” said Mrs.
Barclay; “if I can but get as good a boarding-place
as they leave, they may have my furniture
and take my cares; and didn't you notice,
cousin, Mr. Bond's remark: `When you
have assumed all Mrs. Barclay's cares, wife,
you may sing a different song?”'

“I did,” said Fanny; “but, Hepsy, I did not
like it; it seemed to me he spoke ironically.”

“I don't think so,” sighed Mrs. Barclay.

In the midst of this conversation Mr. Barclay
entered.

CHAPTER VI.

[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]

“What success, ladies, to-day?” inquired
Mr. Barclay, as he tossed up “little Fan” in
the air.

“You had better ask, husband, I should
think, `Why didn't you tell me Bond and his
wife were coming to examine the premises?'
then we should have been in better order about
house. The kitchen was a scene of confusion;
for Polly had just emptied the cupboards to
clean the tin-ware; and my chamber was filled
with trumpery that I left when I cleaned out
that great chest; and the boys' room was a
sight to behold! If you had only told us they
were coming, things would have looked differently,
I assure you.”

Poor woman, she did not know a good house-keeper
never need have an untidy-looking
house.

“How could I tell you what I did not know

[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]

myself?” said Mr. Barclay, in a pleasant tone.
“The truth is, I met Bond in State-street this
morning, and, like every body that knows me,
he inquired if I was about breaking up house-keeping;
if I intended to rent or sell my house;
and remarked, in either case he should like to
avail himself of the opportunity to purchase or
hire it. I told him I should rent it; that more
than a dozen applicants were on my memoranda
now. `Then,' said he, `put me first
among them; for, ever since my wife has been
apprised of your vacating your house, she has
bored me incessantly to hire or buy it.”'

“And how much do you ask for the rent?”
inquired Fanny. Mrs. B. never meddled with
such matters.

“I told him,” said Mr. B., “I thought it
would command a thousand dollars, but he
should have it, being a friend, with a small
family, for nine hundred and the taxes. He
came immediately over to inspect it, and the
rest you know about. But tell me, have you
yet seen a place where you would like to

[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]

board? I have kept pretty still thus far, as
you know; but when I get so far as to leave
my old home, I must think about getting a
new one; and I was going to give you, Mrs.
Barclay and Fanny, but one more day to perambulate
the streets in search of a place, and
then, if you find none, I shall feel obliged to
take the matter in hand myself. Bond says
he thinks we can take the rooms he leaves.
How should you like them, wife?”

Mrs. Barclay hopped out of her chair, and
dancing up to her husband, only said, “Do
get them. You know how often I have envied
Mrs. Bond her pleasant window and easy
enjoyment.”

“But,” said Fanny, “old Miss Widdifield
has a place in view. Mrs. Bates, opposite her,
she says, has a splendid establishment, and we
are going to see that this afternoon.”

“Very well,” said Barclay, “look all you
want to. I wish Hepsy to be fully satisfied;
for as it is, in homely phrase, `a dish of her

[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]

own cooking,' I will not throw an ingredient
into it to which she has an aversion.”

After dinner the two cousins proceeded to
call for Miss Widdifield. The good old lady
inhabited a “second-rate boarding-house,” and
quite an ordinary room up two flights of stairs.
Mrs. Barclay thought of her remark, “she had
learned how to live,” as very inappropriate;
but she was very cordial in her reception, and
highly gratified with the prospect of her call
on Mrs. Bates. And now we will conduct
you, kind reader, to the interior of Mrs. Bates's
“fashionable establishment.” A man-servant,
of course, bowed the ladies into the drawing-room,
asked for their card, and being informed
that their call was on business, withdrew to
summon the lady of the house into their presence.

And here was indeed splendor! Mrs. Barclay's
drawing-rooms contained nothing more
elegant; indeed, her ottomans, lounges, and
window seats were not so modern. “No
wonder,” thought Miss Widdifield, “they

[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]

never raise the curtains; the light of day would
injure such delicate fabrics!” While the ladies
remained patiently seated, gazing upon
the splendid paintings which decorated the
walls, the servant returned, saying, “Madam
Bates would wait on them as soon as she had
finished her game at bagatelle with General
Frazer!”

At length she appeared. She was most
queenly in figure, attractive in manner, and
fashionable in dress, and listened to the purport
of their business in a most deferential
manner, and with an easy, nonchalant air.
She informed her guests that she had just now
rather an unusual number of vacancies, as one
of the United States ships had just gone out of
port, and many of the officers, although they
nominally lived on board the ship, yet hired
rooms, and took most of their food at her table.
Old Miss W. here made the untimely remark
that “she supposed she lived high, then, for all
the officers she ever knew were dreadful fond
of good living.” Fanny wished the old lady
farther.

[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]

“All the luxuries of the market I generally
procure, ladies, and of course charge a
price correspondent. I likewise keep plenty
of servants; for I once boarded myself, and
never did my poor husband find a house with
a sufficient number of what he called `useful
appendages.' I have just procured a French
cook, a man who is most thoroughly acquainted
with his business, and serves us with the
finest soups I ever tasted. He has two assistant
women, who go and come at his bidding;
and I believe I may say no better chamber-maids
ever were found. Indeed, ladies, I am
relieved of nearly all care; but my expenses
are enormous. But I will not inflict such a
disagreeable feature in one's living upon you,
but, if you please, I will conduct you over my
vacant apartments, and I am sure you can find
just the rooms you may desire, for `I have
large, small, and between ones,' as Commodore
Gates frequently remarks.”

The ladies followed, and often cast toward
each other very meaning looks as they did so.

[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]

Here was first exhibited a large, very large
drawing-room, finished and furnished nearly
as tastefully as the one underneath. Adjoining
this was Midshipman Andrew's private
room, carefully locked; but a cough announced
that the gentleman was within it. Over
the entry was a large unoccupied chamber or
parlor, as you pleased to make it: it had been
used for both. Madam B. had a splendid
French bedstead and marble washstand, which
she furnished, if requested (the property of a
surgeon in one of the steam-ships, but which
he permitted her to use as her own in his absence).
“All my gentlemen,” she remarked,
en passant, “are very obliging, and,” she
added, “excellent paymasters in the end, although
I often suffer some inconveniences in
waiting.” Opposite this room, upon the other
side of the house, was another, of the same dimensions,
similarly furnished; fine closet-room
was very common likewise; and above all
these apartments were six more nearly as eligible,
but all unoccupied!

[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]

Mrs. Barclay expressed great surprise at
these vacancies; so did Fanny; but old Miss
W—did more. She quaintly remarked her
surprise how any body could get a living in an
empty house, when they pretended to keep
boarders; a sentence Madam Bates appeared
not to hear. She seemed to have a convenient
deafness; and no treatise upon that delicate
organ, the ear, ever yet prescribed for this
disease.

Having shown all “the vacancies,” she added,
“And now, ladies, just take a peep in my
dining-room.” It was a spacious room indeed.
A long table, which was folded again
and again, as her family decreased, making
desertions more visible, stood in the center;
upon it was the bagatelle board, and in a room
leading beyond, Fanny declared was a billiard-table.

“You see we keep very comfortable here,
ladies,” continued Madam Bates. Behind her,
upon the commode, stood two decanters, labeled
“Sherry,” “Madeira.”

[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]

This was too much for old Lady W—,
who was a thorough temperance woman. She
burst out,

“Bless me, Miss Bates, here is a sight I haven't
seen for years! Do you furnish liquors on your
table?”

The cousins wished the old lady in California.

“Oh,” replied madam, “I lay no restrictions
upon commanding officers; they are unused
to obedience, and, of course, they board where
every thing is made easy and agreeable. Temperance
is a very good thing, but a glass of
wine now and then never hurts me. I do not,
however, usually keep my wines in quite so
conspicuous a place; but Colonel—”

And here the man-servant announced a box
had arrived, directed to “Madam Bates, —
Avenue.”

The ladies ought here to have withdrawn,
but really they were entertained, and so prolonged
their stay beyond all the bounds of etiquet.

“Bring it here, Sam,” ordered the hostess,

[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]

“and quickly open it; I can not imagine its
contents.”

And, sure enough, it is a headdress, and a
very tasteful one too, with Commodore Shaler's
compliments, and inviting Mrs. Bates to partake
of an evening's amusement at the theater,
with a bill at the bottom of the box announcing
the play, “Romeo and Juliet,” to conclude with
the laughable comedy, “Three Weeks after
Marriage.”

“You see, ladies, a specimen here of my
boarders! they are whole-souled gentlemen!
This commodore is a very generous man. He
has only been with me a month or so; has a
beautiful wife in England; and so I feel at liberty
to accept his attentions, as,” she added,
“you know no remarks will be made.”

“Dear me, I don't know about that,” said
old Miss W—, “for she would speak,” she
said, after she came out.

Thus, an unwarrantably long call having
been made, our ladies, promising to call again,
left Madam Bates.

[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]

Old Miss W— had hardly stepped upon
the sidewalk ere she commenced with plenty
of comments; but the decanters seemed to be
the burden of her song, and the explanation in
those, she thought, she found in Madam Bates's
volubility. She deeply regretted she had
spoken of this place to Mrs. Barclay; but, as
she had thereby looked “behind the curtains,”
she comforted herself she had done no harm;
for Mrs. Barclay said, “Nothing on earth would
induce her to board in such a house.”

And with this day closed Mrs. Barclay's
and Fanny's hunt for a fashionable boarding-house.
Very few would have persevered so
long in looking, but curiosity prompted Fanny,
and a desire to get a “good home in a genteel
house,” Mrs. Barclay. They returned home,
and narrated the particulars, as above described,
at Madam Bates's, to Mr. Barclay.

“And what did you say the woman's name
was?” he inquired.

“Bates.”

“Bates? Bates? Why, that is the very

[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]

woman Bond was talking about this morning.
She has just gone into bankruptcy.”

“What a comment upon a style without
any means to carry it on!” said Fanny.

It was now left for them to secure Bond's
rooms when he vacated them. Having examined
them, and found them rather eligible,
compared with those they had seen, Fanny
and Mrs. Barclay concluded to take them without
farther comment, for a beginning must be
made.

CHAPTER VII.

[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]

It was now the day before the auction.
Clerks were very busy assorting “in lots” the
whole contents of the house; for Mr. Bond,
although he had rented the house, and desired
much of the furniture, concluded to take it at
“auction prices,” alledging that the auctioneer
would thereby get his commission, and bystanders
would not complain of unfair dealing.

Mrs. Barclay had removed to her new boarding-house
sundry articles which, from conversation
with Mrs. Bond, she found would be
necessary; but how it could be she would
need a copper saucepan, a small tea-kettle, two
or three flat-irons, and other unnameable articles,
she could not divine! Experience gives
us knowledge we never otherwise learn.

It was indeed a busy day at Barclay's!
Mrs. Bond was talking with Polly; and Fanny's
inference was, that she was retaining her

[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]

services, for she heard Polly observe, “And
sure two dollars a week is small pay for a head
cook; in boarding-houses they give three;
but, bating the privilege of going to the Church
of the Holy Cross on Sundays, and keeping
Lent, &c., I will take what I told you.”

“Oh, that's it,” said Mrs. Barclay. “Mrs.
Bond did ask me about Polly, and Sally said
she inquired of her as to her capability.”

True, she did inquire of Sally, and she gave
her a character indeed: “She was cross;
wanted nobody in the kitchen; and a saint
could not live with her without quarreling.”

Other things, too, were narrated respecting
conversations between Fanny and Mrs. Barclay
about Mrs. Bond's manœuvring to get
the house, and that they should pay for what
they bought, &c., and it was probably this
circumstance that induced Mr. Bond to buy
every thing at auction.

The day of sale has now arrived! A long
red flag proclaims the event to every passerby.
No permission to see the articles the day

[figure description] Page 064.[end figure description]

before has been given; therefore, at an early
hour, the crowd have gathered. It has been
previously agreed that Fanny and Mrs. Barclay
shall have a seat in a retired corner, and
watch the proceedings. Some sensitive ladies
would not have desired this; for when the actual
“knocking off” of long-prized and valued
articles takes place, and that irrevocable word
“gone” is uttered, they would much prefer to be
“among the missing.” But Mrs. Barclay had
no such feelings. “Was she not in ill health?”
Had not “the care” of these very articles worn
her out? Was she not going now to live at
ease in “a boarding-house?” Surely, then, the
novelty of the sale was very agreeable.

The crowd increases every moment. The
sale has commenced in the kitchen, where,
among the number, is seen old Polly, with her
large, frilled Irish cap, starched for the occasion,
and a white apron, only worn when her
cooking is done. And there, too, are the sisters,
Jemima and Dorothy Witherspoon, who
keep boarders that have no children! They

[figure description] Page 065.[end figure description]

are standing beside that very coffee-biggin
they spoke about. Let us see if they buy it.

“Twenty-five cents!” says the auctioneer;
“only twenty-five cents! Why, it cost six
times the money. Wedgewood's make—warranted
to make good coffee. Whose bid do I
hear? Gentlemen, let those ladies pass”—it
has now reached one dollar, and Miss Jemima
utters the sharp major key-note, “1 25”—
“1 30 do I hear? Oh, madam, it is your bid
still; 1 40—45—50!”—and still Jemima's bid
upon herself!—“going at 1 50!—going, going,
gone to Miss J. Witherspoon for 1 50, and
too cheap at that!” says the man of the hammer.

Many of the culinary articles are put to Mr.
Bond; indeed, Polly thinks there is quite
enough left for her “to clane.” Now let us
peep in the drawing-rooms. Close by that
gold-banded China sits that tawdry, old French
boarding-house keeper, Madame Goriè, her
black sunken eyes resting, as if fixed in a fit,
upon the French coffee-set! Fanny and Mrs.

[figure description] Page 066.[end figure description]

Barclay are inspecting her winter's dress:
she wears a cloak lined with ermine upon the
inside; but, evidently, the moths occupied it
last summer; her hat is filled with “rag roses,”
feathers, and buckles; and Fanny wonders
what she does with that huge turban when she
wears a bonnet; for she thinks she discovers
in the frill an old acquaintance. Poor woman!
Don't laugh; she only has “a peculiar taste,”
unlike ours, in dress!

And who is not here? There are Bishop
C— and his lady; Commodore D— and
his daughter, who, report says, is on the eve
of marriage to her majesty's mail-carrier; and
Esquire Thorn and his maiden sister; old
Parson G—, and that attendant lady always
at his side; besides the middling, and, if one
may judge by appearances, some of the lower
and lowest classes. A lame man, of very ordinary
appearance, seems to be much relied
on by the auctioneer as being ready to bid. It
is the “second-hand dealer” in — street.
He always buys, although his rooms are

[figure description] Page 067.[end figure description]

overrunning now with every kind of article in the
housekeeping line; but these articles being
choice, are not so desirable to him.

“The girandoles” are bought by Mr. Bond
so are the imperial carpets and the mirrors.
This creates some distrust among a portion of
the company. “That's Barclay's `by-bidder,' ”
reaches the auctioneer's ears; and now he is
forced to explain.

“Gentlemen—my address is not to ladies,
for they are not so jealous—there is no `bybidder'
here. The highest bidder is the owner,
be he who he may. Mr. Bond has rented this
house, and is ready to buy at a fair price what
he wants for his future use. Mr. Barclay surrenders
all, and quits these premises to-morrow,
on account of the `ill health' of his lady.”

That was an impudent speech, which ought
not to have been publicly made, and Barclay
felt it even more than his wife, although all
eyes were directed to her who had ever looked
upon her before; and some wag remarked,
“Better keep out of such a crowd, if she is very

[figure description] Page 068.[end figure description]

ill; she may faint;” but people who will expose
themselves to ill-natured remarks can
generally have an opportunity to hear them in
an auction-room.

The “India poy tables” are now under the
hammer. These light, tasteful, and useful articles
are much in vogue, and desired by sundry
people. A smart bidding is carried on
between Bishop C— and the commodore;
but the former gains the prize at about twice
the original cost; his lady protests “she never
saw any half as cheap before!”

At length the “China” is offered; but first
comes that “Britannia venison-dish.” Colonel
Gardner now gives a significant wink to Miss
J. Witherspoon; her sharp voice offers “seventy-five
cents!” It thus stands; nobody wants
it; and, in beseeching tones, the auctioneer
inquires “if nobody eats venison among this
assembly;” if so, he calls on them to speak.
An elegant lady in rich attire, reclining upon
a gentleman's arm, who wears an epaulette,
bids one dollar; and it is hers! Jemima looks

[figure description] Page 069.[end figure description]

awe-struck, so commanding is her appearance;
and the name is given by the gentleman, which
the lady whispers him to announce, as “Madam
Bates!” Old Miss Widdifield here pulled
out her snuffbox, and, Fanny said, actually
sneezed, as she drew up a much larger quantity
than usual.

It is now eleven o'clock, and “the piano” is
announced, “the seraphim” having been withdrawn.
“That is not Barclay's piano,” said
a by-stander, “but one that I have seen in two
auctions before to-day.” The truth was told.
Mrs. Barclay had moved hers to her boarding-house,
and this was “sent in” by the maker,
with Barclay's consent, to make the sale just
as advertised. Beware, friend, of purchasing
an instrument at a public auction. It is said that
“first-rate articles” are seldom thus sacrificed!
No bid satisfactory was made upon this instrument,
and, of course, it lies over to another sale!
Bond has the pictures, excepting two or three
choice pieces, which Barclay has removed.
The library is untouched; the door is locked.

[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]

Thus, in a few hours, is partial desolation
made visible: “hand-carts” and “furniture-wagons”
take the places carriages have often
occupied; the flag is withdrawn, and the sale
is over. Poor Mrs. Barclay! you have accomplished
all you purposed to do. Fanny
Jones leaves for home, and Mr. and Mrs.
Barclay, Sally, and “little Fan” are at board.
John and Charles Barclay are with an uncle
in the country until all things are settled.

CHAPTER VIII.

[figure description] Page 071.[end figure description]

As much as Mrs. Barclay had desired this
change, there can be no doubt that Fanny Jones
has borne her along in it, and brought it about
much sooner than it otherwise would have
been.

But she is “at board;” that is, she is in
rooms vacated by Mr. Bond and family. She
has taken many of their articles, such as carpets,
ottomans, and curtains; and they, in turn,
have hers in possession. It is now the evening
after the sale; the first opportunity Mr.
Barclay has had to converse with his wife for
the last three weeks, when she was not
“sleepy,” or had Miss Fanny at her side!

“Well, wife,” said he, “now, I suppose, you
are in expectation of much enjoyment. I hope
you will find it; but, for myself, I must confess,
I feel as old Miss Widdifield said she did at
Madam Bates's, `like a cat in a strange

[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]

garret.' Ain't we dreadfully compressed here for
room? and why don't we have access to this
closet, pray? Bond said he had it, and I stipulated
for every inch of room he occupied
I'm sure I pay enough.”

“What do you pay?” inquired Mrs. Barclay,
gaping; “thirty dollars, I suppose—hey?”

“Yes, and twenty more at the end of it.”

“Why, I thought Mr. Bond paid thirty?”

“And so he did; but, you know, they kept
no nursery woman, and their two boys only
dined here; the rest of the time they were at
his brother's. But I must see into this door's
being locked.”

Sally knew the secret; but she said nothing
till Mr. Barclay left the room to inquire about
it; for he, of late, kept Sally at a distance with
her tongue.

Her explanation, however, to Mrs. Barclay
was, that Mrs. Shortt begged Mrs. Bond not
to show this anteroom to Mrs. Barclay; for
she had an old bachelor, who occupied a room
above, and, as he was very gouty, he had

[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]

informed Mrs. Shortt he should be obliged to
leave the house unless he could procure a
room upon the second story. The day before
the Barclays went he was moved down. It
may be inferred the old man knew this trick;
for, however loud the knocking at the door,
there came no answer.

Mr. Barclay was gone some time, and returned
in no very good humor.

“I do believe,” said he, as he thrust the poker
to the very bottom of the grate, “that these
women who keep boarders are the greatest
`spongers' in the world.”

“Don't talk so, husband; Mrs. Shortt seems
very kind. Sally, do run down and ask her
to send me up a cup of strong hyson tea, a slice
of toast, and a bit of cake, and some preserves,
if she has any on the table.”

Mr. Barclay saw it was no use to talk, so
he took “little Fan,” and played a game of
“bo-peep” with her, and, soon after, took his
tea below among the strange group.

Madam Shortt was a very, very particular

[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]

woman. She used to boast that “she always
began with boarders as she could hold out;” and,
it seems, she began with a vengeance with the
Barclays. Sally did her message in a very
proper manner, and even expressed Mrs. Barclay's
regrets (which she did not send) that
she was prevented by a severe headache from
appearing at the table, and she wished her tea
in her room.

“Give my compliments to Mrs. Barclay,”
said Madam Shortt, “and tell her it is in direct
violation of all the rules of my house to send
food to the rooms of the inmates; that if people
are too sick to come to the table, we suppose
them too sick to eat, and, of course, then
they provide a nurse; but, considering she is
a new-comer, I will to-night let you take the
waiter from the kitchen, and carry it to Mrs.
Barclay's room.”

Sally was thunder-struck, but did as she was
desired, and succeeded only in procuring a
slice of dry toast, and a piece of very dry
“sponge cake;” but, as she delivered Madam

[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

Shortt's message first, neither the food nor
tea relished, and Mrs. Barclay's head really
ached worse than before. But she resolved
not to complain. Sally took her tea with the
domestics, and a poor meal she found it; “little
Fan” had her tumbler of milk and crackers,
and went to sleep. Would that we could, like
tired children, drop into sweet forgetfulness,
when vexed and tired with all about us!

In the course of the first evening, Mr. Barclay
remarked to his wife that he believed they
had a real “Tartar” to deal with, and she had
better prepare herself to get along as smoothly
as possible; “for,” said he, “Bond and his
wife will laugh well in their sleeves, if we
should get up a quarrel to begin with, when
they have boarded here for years. But I tell
you one thing, wife, and that is, for breakfast,
you had better equip yourself to appear at the
table, for there are great inquiries about you. I
heard a remark from a large, portly woman,
just as I entered the front parlor to tea—not
being perceived, I suppose—which, I think,

[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]

referred to you: `That's right, madam; I would
not do it; if to-night, you may to-morrow, and
it is setting a bad precedent.'

“What would you put on for a morning
dress, husband? I meant Fanny should have
brought me something suitable.”

“Wear just what you please, Hepsy, only
don't dress too much. The most genteel ladies,
in the morning, never wear any thing better
than a calico or de lain, I believe.”

“Hadn't Sally better run over and ask Mrs.
Bond what is proper to wear?”

“Don't be so foolish, wife; it is of no sort
of consequence. There will be more important
matters, I fear, soon to talk about, unless
we go very even-handed.”

And, sure enough, the first night was a trying
one to Barclay. Scarcely would he get
in a drowsy state, approaching sleep, ere a terrible
groan, sometimes accompanied by an
oath, would burst upon his ear! As he listened,
a low, indistinct murmuring could be heard,
as if two were in close consultation. Thus it

[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

continued for some hours; when Barclay, who
was somewhat of a nervous temperament, and
probably, at this time, looking back as well as
forward to little domestic happiness, sprang
from his bed, lighted his lamp, and had recourse
to a book.

Mrs. Barclay, perfectly undisturbed, slept
quietly till awakened by that unusual sound to
her ears, “the gong,” at its first summons to
prepare for breakfast.

“Oh dear!” was her first exclamation, “can
that be for breakfast? I'm sure I never can rise
at this early hour. Mr. Barclay, how came
you up so early?”

“Up!” said Barclay; “I might as well have
been in a cotton-factory all night as listening
to such groans and oaths as came from that
room.”

“I'm sure I heard nothing, husband.”

CHAPTER IX.

[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

Let us take a peep at Madam Shortt's
breakfast-room and its inmates. That old
gentleman at the head of the table is Captain
Ingersoll, and the fat, portly lady at his side
is his wife. The old man was formerly in “the
China trade,” and can tell you all about the
opium and tea in the “Celestial Empire.” But
he knows more of the Chinese than Americans.
Next to them sits Madam Bounce, the
widow of an Episcopal bishop, who died in
England some years since. She emigrated
to America to ascertain some facts relative to
her husband's right in certain real estate he
possessed, which was sold, and the proceeds
withheld on account of some defect in the title.
She came over highly recommended to all
the “right reverend bishops, rectors, and deacons,”
full half a score of them, and proudly
does she plume herself upon her ancestry.

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Don't speak to her unless you are of noble extraction.
She may be civil, but she will show
you she is not to be familiarly treated! Beyond
her is the honorable senator from — county.
He is engrossed in conversation about some
bills which he thinks, if they go through “the
House,” will find a “nonconcurrence” in the
Senate. The gentleman with whom he is in
such earnest confab is Simon Peters, a gentleman
from his native town, and by whom he
was introduced at Madam Shortt's. That
maiden lady, who seems to carry the impression
in her countenance that she is gazed upon
and admired, is Miss Sylvia Dexter, a Sabbathschool
teacher, and instructress in sundry ornamental
branches. She is a “second cousin” to
the landlady; is probably “considered” in her
board, as she arranges with great precision
Madam Shortt's center-table. And just beyond
her is a sort of facetious fellow they call
“Mr. Caleb Flash.” He is a “broker,” and
greatly amuses the whole set of boarders by
descriptions of those who have been duped by

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buying in “fancy stocks” just as they get a
“downward tendency.” He is now narrating
to Mr. Holman, a lawyer of some ability, a pitiable
case of a man who thus invested. Take
care, Caleb, the very man you are conversing
with comes in for a part of your wit; for he
was drawn into a snare by speculating too
freely a month ago! Beyond them sit Robert
Barclay and wife, with whom our readers are
familiarly acquainted. But hark! there is a
great commotion; sometimes it sounds like a
heavy footstep, and then a clumping noise, as if
a stick of wood was falling. A man-servant
swings the door wide open, and Mr. Bumblefoot
is on hand! This is the identical man
who swore and groaned all night, and thus prevented
Barclay from getting any rest.

In a remarkably pleasant tone sounds the
“Good morning, Mr. Bumblefoot,” from Madam
Shortt. “How did you rest, sir? You seem
unusually lame this morning. Is that rheumatic
affection in your foot again at work?”
inquired the hostess, very plaintively; and still

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more modulating her voice to its finest compass,
“Pray be seated, Mr. Bumblefoot, in this
arm-chair; I anticipated you were not so well
this morning; and, Judith, warm that cushion,
and draw that chair toward Mr. Bumblefoot
that he may put his foot in it” (thought Mrs.
Barclay, this is more attention than I asked for
last night). “And now, Judith, run to the
front cellar and bring up a pint bottle of cider
marked upon the cork B., the same kind you
got last night, Judith.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I am sorry you feel so ill, sir.”

“So am I too,” gruffly answered the old
man. “It has been a night of torment to me:
Sam can attest that, for he has been heating
flannels all night.”

While Judith is gone for the bottle, the old
man, looking at the table rather sharply, is attracted
by the new couple nearly opposite to
him. “Is that the Mr. Berkly, Miss Shortt,
you said was `moving in' yesterday?”

“Excuse me, sir, for not introducing you.

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Mr. Barclay, this is Mr. Bumblefoot, a boarder
of long standing in my house. Mrs. Barclay,
Mr. Bumblefoot.”

There are times when one is forced to be
civil, and so it was here; for Barclay really
felt indignant at the imposition of the landlady,
and the disquiet the old man had occasioned
him; but it must borne.

“Berkly! Berkly!” said the old fellow, in
a coarse, gruff tone; “I want to ask you if
your father was not a hatter down in Liberty
Square?”

“No, sir, I claim no acquamtance or knowledge
of such a man,” dryly answered Barclay.

“Well, I knew another Berkly” (and here
he twitched his great foot), “a man that kept
under Faneuil Hall market.”

“Oh, Mr. Bumblefoot, you have mistaken
the name,” said Miss Sylvia; “it is Barclay,
not Berkly.”

Mr. Barclay nodded.

“Now, Judith, reach the tumbler and

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corkscrew, and draw up the stand, and I will take
my breakfast here, where it is warmer,” said
old Bumblefoot.

Breakfast was dispatched, the table cleared,
and still Madam Shortt was attending the old
man. Sally and “little Fan” are sent to the
lobby, a sort of closet, to get their morning
meal. But “little Fan” cries to go home;”
persists she will not eat; and Mrs. Shortt opens
the door and informs Sally that she can have
no crying children in her house.

Barclay is coming down stairs, and hears it
all. He is not a passionate man, as my readers
know; but, having had no rest, and feeling
imposed upon, and finding his child is to be
driven off, his nature is stirred. With a bold
front, he inquires at once of Mrs. Shortt “if
she excludes all children from her table;” adding,
“he intended his little girl should, in future,
sit in her high chair, and take her food at
the time her parents did.”

Madam colored above her forehead, and
burst out, “Mr. Barclay, I never have found

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so unreasonable a man as you, sir, in all my
experience of keeping boarders. Scarcely had
you set foot within my doors before you demanded
a key to which you are no more entitled
than the pope. Then Mrs. Barclay
wanted tea sent to her room, and now your
child is to make another fracas. Mr. Barclay,
it is a rule with me to begin as I can hold out;
and I tell you, sir, at this early stage of the
business, if you are dissatisfied, you may go
to-day; but mind ye, you shall pay a month's
board in advance. The child will never be
seen at my table, sir, with my boarders; your
lady will not have her tea sent to her room;
and you may get the key to the ante-room—
when I give you leave, sir!”

“That's right, Miss Shortt,” mumbled out old
Bumblefoot: “I won't stand by you any longer
if you give up your rights. These women,
Mr. Berkly,” said he, shaking his finger at
him, “ought not to be imposed upon.”

Mr. Barclay explained; but of what avail
is one man's tongue beside Mrs. Shortt's?

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