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“Mrs. Timms,” said old Roger, one morning to his
landlady at the breakfast-table; he was an old bachelor
was Roger, and, as such, was an object of considerable
interest, both with the landlady and three antiquated
spinsters who boarded with her. “Mrs. Timms, what
sort of a house do you keep? What sort of a neighborhood
is this that you live in? and why is it that you
have such a bad character round town, ma'am?”

The landlady was astonished, and well she might be,
for he looked excited — incensed.

“I 've boarded here, ma'am,” continued he, “just
seven weeks, and every week we have had a tract left
here, and each tract is against some cardinal sin, ma'am,
that you, nor me, nor the young ladies here, I hope
ever committed. Here 's drunkenness, and gambling,
and swearing, and lying, and stealing, and adultery, and
bearing false witness, — almost all the sins in the church
calendar, ma'am, and what 'll come next I can't guess.
I can't stand it, ma'am. Why, the devil himself could n't
stand it.”

And his brow looked hot and steamy, and he bore the
look of a man injured by an implied reflection on a heretofore
bright reputation.

p677-356

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