Miss Slimmens' boarding house

Chapter I. “ Single Gentlemen Preferred.”

[As Pennyville grew larger and more fashionable, the business of the new milliner from Boston rapidly increased, while very many of Miss Slimmens’ oldest and most reliable customers deserted the little shop, climbing up a pair of stairs to give their patronage to the showy establishment, whose windows flaunted nearly the whole stock of the possessor, above the first-floor dry-goods store of brick, new, and three stories high, which had now become the centre of attraction to the feminine portion of the village — flaunting its stock right in the ancient face of the weather-worn sign across the way. This was too much for human nature, and especially woman-nature, to endure. There is a time when “ patience ceases to be a virtue.” Miss Slimmens felt that that time had arrived ; and, two years after that tragic event which made such melancholy inroads upon her heart and fortune, the shop was closed, the sign was taken down, and the Boston milliner was left in possession of the field.

Let not her sympathizers suppose from this that Miss Slimmens was vanquished. To that indomitable spirit there was no such word as fail. A card, which appeared in the Pennyville Eagle , will explain her purposes sufficiently to those able to appreciate the advantages which such a step must ensure to a lady of her business habits and matrimonial aspirations :

W ANTED — A few genteel young men, as boarders, at No. 90 Washington street, by a lady without family, who has more room than she requires. All the comforts of a home secured. Single gentlemen preferred.

Our fair friend had run some risk, as she had been obliged to invest quite a large part of the money which the sale of her stock in trade, etc., brought in fitting up the establishment indicated in the advertisement as No. 90. Dora, poor child, had lost her mother, and, being without other friend or protector in the world, had accepted the offer of her mistress to remain with her, assisting in the superintendence of the household as a compensation for her keeping.]

Yes, gentlemen, I really trust we shall; I trust we shall get along admirality together. I depend upon you both for guidance and support. Hitherto my efforts to obtain a compensation have been principally among my own sex ; and, although there are a few honorable exceptions, I must say, as a general thing, women are dreadfully down upon one of their own sex who is struggling for a livelihood, especially when, like the one who is now before' you, she is timid and unexperienced. I wonder if I shall ever, in my maturer years, arrive at an age when I shall be less sensitive and more capable of taking care of myself? Oh, gentlemen, I have suffered ; but it “ boots not to remember’' the past. With the sweetest of Boston’s many bards, let me exclaim :

“ Oh, faint not, in a world like this,

And thou shalt know ere long,

Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong !”

What’s that you remarked, Mr. Little? You think this butter must have suffered ? Oh, Mr. Little, how sharp you are, now — he, he ! I was not aware that it had the slightest unpleasant flavor, and my digestive faculties have always been considered rather too critical. I paid the highest market price for it. But that’s only one of many instances of how an unprotected female is imposed upon. How did you say you took your tea, Mr. Grayson? Without sugar or milk ? I declare, what a curious coincidence ! Why, that’s the way I take my mine ! It’s the only way to take tea — don’t you think so ? All true lovers of

“ The cup which cheers, but not depreciates,”

— as “ Gray’s Elegy,” I think it is, has it — consider its delicate aurora injured by any addition. What’s that, Mr. Little? Old people are apt to take it without, but, for your part, give you plenty of the fixings along with it ? Oh, certainly, as much as you choose. But I’m sure Mr. Grayson is not old, if he is a widower. How old are you, Mr. Grayson, if it isn’t a secret? Rising of forty, perhaps? Fiftysix ! J ust twice my age. I never should have guessed it in the world. But I’m glad there’s somebody who has arrived at maturity to give an air of dignity to our circle. We shall be a very pleasant fainily, I trust. I shall do my best to study the tastes and peculiarities of each in order to consult them.

A daughter of mine ! Dora a daughter of mine ! Oh, Mr. Grayson, you know not what you ask! Nothing but your being a stranger in this vicinity excuses so strange a question. Surely you must have noticed that I am accosted by the prognostic of Miss Slimmens. I am unmarried, and have ever been, Mr. Grayson ; my heart is still my own ; my affections are virgin as the unkissed bloom upon the grape.

Vergin' upon fifty, did you say, Mr. Little ? I’m sure I don’t understand you, and it’s well for you that I don’t. Besides, Dora is too old to be a child of mine. We are generally taken to be sisters. She ha? a good deal of my expression about the mouth and eyes — the same sort of smile. You speak true ; she has a sweet countenance. We are said to resemble each other considerably, although we are no relation. She’s a poor girl, without father or mother, that Vve taken and made what she is. She’s my adopted sister now ; and if I do well in the io Miss Slimmens Boarding House.

boarding-house, I intend to take her in as pardner before the end of the year, which will be doing a good deal, for she won’t have as much to put in the general stock as would buy a dozen of eggs, whilst I have already infested nigh on to a thousand dollars.

Have some of the chipped beef, Mr. Turner * — do ! Won’t you have some more, Mr. Little ? You’re not fond of chips? — he! he! I’ve always heard you were a witty person, but I hope you won’t be too severe at my expense.

Yes, Dora’s a nice girl ; but she’s poor, awfully poor. If anybody thought of marrying her, I don’t know where the wedding-dress would come from. It’s a terrible pity she wasn’t born an heiress, like myself. What’s that, Mr. Little? I might lend her my bridal-robes, if she should chance to want ’em ? Really, now, I wasn’t aware that I had any ; I cut ’em up for bunnit silk months ago ; besides, what should you know about ’em, when they’ve never seen the light to this blessed day, and I keep the key of the chest myself? And as for that matter, he’s only jesting, Mr. Grayson, as I never had any bridal-robes, of course, seeing I never was married. Dear me, it’s uncomfortably warm here — don’t you find it so? Bridget, open that door, and bring some more bread — one slice, and cut it in two — mind, girl ! — don’t you see the plates are empty ?

Yes, gentlemen, I trust we shall prove to be kindred spirits. There is nothing more absorbing to the contemplation than a united family circle, where congenial aspirations bind them together. I am young to assume the responsibility of feeding and clothing — of course, I am speaking metaphistically of the clothing — so many of the opposite sex ; but I intend to endeavor to fulfil the charge — to be a sister to you all. I hope my example will be such as to keep the younger members of this interesting group in the rectified path of probable and truth. If any of you stand in need of advice, come to me. If any of you wish shirt-buttons replaced, come to me. If any of you ever feel lonely, and in need of the tender constellations of home, come to me. If any of you wish your cravats and pocket-handkerchiefs hemmed, come to me. It shall be done freely, and without charge. My object in establishing this boarding-house has not been simply to make money — to feed, like a coroner, on the hearts of my victims, charging them a high price, and giving them cheap provisions in return, while I withhold that sympathy and intimacy which is more precious than bread and meat. My principal object has been to establish a home — a place where young men, away from their mothers, may find, for a moderate reimbursement, the comforts to which they were accustomed before they left the shelter of their childhood’s roof. So plausible an object ought to succeed. I feel that it will. Already, at this, our first meal, I count before me six of the most respectable young gentlemen of Pennyville, and this interesting stranger, who intends to become a permeate residence, and who has brought along with him initials of the highest character. I have forebodings that I shall succeed beyond my fondest anticipations. In the mean time, my rent is high, and provisions — as you are aware, Mr. Turner, being in the grocery business — are very dear ; which accounts for the price I have fixed upon as the weekly remuneration for what you receive. I would fain allow filthy lucre to remain unmentioned in my plans, but, as long as this cannot be, I know that to your noble and generous minds it will be a pleasure to contribute towards the support of an unprotected female obliged to abandon the millinery business to which she had clung for the last — five years ; and that a dollar more or less will never be weighed in the balance by those of you who have sisters, or who expect to have wives.

Yes, gentlemen, I throw myself — Really, Mr. Little, you drink considerable tea for a young man. This is your fourth cup, I believe. If you don’t look out, you’ll be sallow and withered up before you know it ; too

Miss Shmmens' Boarding House. 1 3 much tea is bad for young people. What’s that? Am I a very great tea-drinker? No, of course I’m not ; two cups is enough for me, at my age. When I get to be forty, maybe I’ll feel the need of more. They say tea makes people grow old dreadfully fast, and sugar in it spoils the teeth. ’Twould be a pity for your teeth to go, Mr. Little ; they’re beautiful now. He ! he ! thank you ! mine are pretty good. I’ve been told — Hey? — better than they used to be several years ago? Why, yes; I’ve no doubt they’re better than they were when I was sheddin’ my first set. Children’s teeth is apt to be irregular about that time. Won’t you have some more of the preserves, Mr. Grayson ? Don’t be backward about saying so, if you will, for Bridget can bring in some, if anybody wishes ’em. There’s plenty in the cellar.

Well, gentlemen, our first meal together has taken place. This is an important error in my life. Please remember that the parlor is always at your service. I shall generally be there f myself, evenings, to give it a familiar aspect. There’s a guitar in there — I play on it myself some — have been learning lately on purpose to add another charm to home. I sing some. So does Dora. I should be happy to take a duet with any of you, at any time. I’ve also got a bodoor. It’s right back of the parlor. It was originally invented for a bedroom, but, as I told Dora, a bodoor would be more appropriate. They’re quite the style. And then they have such a reclusive air. They’re a sweet place to retire to when one has something to confide, or feel weary of the prometheas throng. It will be one of my favorite hounts. If any one who needs advice, or has got the headache, or anything to confide or mistrust, he is welcome to Alvira’s bodoor.

Chapter II. She Is Confidential With Dora

We’re getting on swimmingly, Dora. It’s a money-making business, when it’s managed right — better, on the hull, than fixing over old bunnits. I’ve cleared nigh on to eighteen dollars this week, over and above all expenses. And then, you see, child, our chances for receiving the attentions of the opposite sex are so much better. You’re too much in your infancy, as it were, to attach much importance to this advantage yet ; but the time’ll come when you’ll depreciate it as it deserves. Why, the gentlemen scarcely take their eyes off you when you’re at table! They don’t eat much more than half the usual amount. But I don’t mind that ; what I consider is your interests ; and that’s why I’ve decided that you’d better not eat at the general table. You’re too modest a girl — too much like me — to wish to be the sinecure of so many young men’s eyes. I hate it myself, like poison ; but of course somebody must reside at the head of the table, and so I’m actually impelled to. It goes against the grain, though I’m getting a little used to it. You shall have some of the best of vittles saved, and be waited on like the rest of us, but I guess you'd better eat by yourself.

That puts me in mind ! I’ve invited Mr. Barker to bring in his flute, and we’ll get up a concert this evening. I’m glad so many of the boarders have musical abilities ; it’s such a nice way of getting ’em into the parlor of evenings. Mr. Little's promised to keep his violin over here after this, and not at the store. He makes it an excuse for staying out evenings that he’s practising ; but once get his violin here, and we’ll know what’s really going on. He’s the handsomest young man in Pennyville — Mr. Little is. Don’t you think so ? But he says such impertinent things, and keeps the boarders laughing at things that he says, which I can’t overhear. I declare I’d give him his walkingticket if he didn’t pay such a good price for that front room, and if I hadn’t hopes that he’d some time come round and yield to the fascinations which somebody flings around him. There, Dora, you needn’t turn so red ; of course I wasn’t thinking of a poor girl like yourself catching Hal Little yet awhile. Mr. Barker’s got a real talent for music. You can’t think how pleased he was to discover that I sung and played the guitar. He said he should frequently join me in a duet. He asked me what were my fa\4orite songs. I told him Moore’s Melodies ; he said they were also his’n. He said he should be delighted to hear me sing “ Love’s Young Dream” or the “ Last Rose of Summer,” dressed in character. Wasn’t that a charming idea ? I’m determined to carry it out ; though I think I should prefer “ Love’s Young Dream” to the other, as more approbrious. I’m going to surprise him some time soon, by making an appointment to meet me in my bodoor, and, when he enters, find me sitting upon a pile of cushions, with my guitar in my lap, dressed in Oriental custom, as Moore describes some of his heroines. Which would you choose, if you were me? I’ve always thought you’d good taste, Dora, and I shall be likely to abide by your decision.

And, oh, Dora, I’ve got a secret to tell you — one of the greatest secrets of my life. You can’t think how queer it makes me feel to be having such a secret to confide. I don’t know as anything will come of it, but it looks very much like it. And what makes it so delightful is the mystery which encircles it. I don’t know when anything so mysterious has ever before happened to me. Look here ! I found this in the sugar-bowl this morning. I was rather late, and several of the boarders had taken their places before I arrived ; so I don’t know who to lay it to. Wasn’t that a sweet depository for a love-letter? — such an antique idea ! When I took it out, I glanced around, but nobody looked the least conscientious. Mr. Little was carving the beefsteak as if it never would come in two — and, in fact, it was rather tough : Mr. Barker was looking at me as innocent as if nothing but coffee was in his thoughts, and the rest were just as usual. Do you know the handwriting? Neither do I. It’s a nice plain hand, isn’t it? I didn’t venture to read it until breakfast was over and I had taken refuse in my bodoor. My heart palpitated uncommonly fast as I broke the seal. See here ! it’s poetry.

It seems to be a parable of “ The Vale of Avoca,” a great favorite of mine, which I was singing to Mr. Barker night before last, which makes me guess he is the author, though two other gentlemen were present at the time, either of which may have been the one. How I wish I knew! But of course I shall find out. I intend to ascertain this evening, to a certainty, whether it was Mr. Barker. It was one of the objects I had in view when I invited him to a solitary duet in my bodoor to-night. It’s nearly time now, and he’s very punctual ; but I guess we’ll have time to peruse it. It is called

THE MEETING OF THE LOVERS.

There is not in this wide world a maiden so sweet As the one in whose bosom all gentle thoughts meet;

Oh, the last rays of feeling and life must depart

Ere the bloom of that maiden shall fade from my heart.

Yet it was not that Nature had over her spread The purest of pearl-white and brightest of red;

’Twas not her soft magic of beauty or youth —

'Twas something quite different from such things, in truth!

'Twas that she, the beloved of my bosom, was near —

That she made even common provisions seem dear;

And I felt how the best charms of life may increase When we have them served up by a Goddess of Grease.

Sweet maiden, Alvira, how calm could I rest In thy bo— door of sweets, with the one I love best;

Where the storms which we feel in this cold world should cease,

And where love and economy mingle in peace.

Now some people might object, Dora, to the practical tone of what I have read you, but for my part I have ever thought that a proper medicum was the one to be preserved. It is a precept upon which I have ever acted, with one exception, to which you are better knowing than anybody else, save the villain who caused me to make such a fool of myself. When I’ve decided to my own satisfaction who placed ’em in the sugar-bowl, I’m going to return an answer in the saucer of his teacup. I’ve got one nearly finished now. If Mr. Barker’s the one, I’ll find out before ten o’clock this night. I thought he looked a little sensitive at the table this noon. I saw Mr. Little winking at him — yes, actually winking — although he didn’t mean me to see it. If he wasn’t so provoking good-looking and liberal, I declare I believe I’d let that best room to the first application. I wish you’d see if my guitar is in tune ; you can get it in tune so much quicker than I can, and the clock’s striking seven now.

There ! I hear his voice in the parlor now. I wonder why he don’t come immediately into the bodoor. He and them others are in a great glee about something ; I hope it isn’t about the corned beef we had for dinner. Mr. Little said he had become so permanently corned since he’d been put upon rations that reports to his disadvantage had already become freely circu-

Miss Slimmens Boarding Hotise. 2 1

lated in Pennyville ; and Mr. Turner said he was afraid we had all been guilty of cannibalism without knowing it ; he was confident we had been living off Lot’s wife for a week. I shall have to have fowls to-morrow, I perceive, though I didn’t appear to hear ’em.

There, Dora, he’s pitching his flute now. I think he plays like a second Morpheus. Do hear how sweetly he runs up the gamut ! He’s an ostrich in himself ! Oh, if it should prove to be him who wrote Dora, dear, he’s com-

ing this way! Hadn’t you better slip down in the kitchen and see how Bridget’s doing the knives? I’m dreadfully afraid she puts the handles in hot water; and after that you may count the towels she’s ironed, and then you may — well, no matter what — go to your room if you want to. I’ll tell you to-morrow the result of our Hurry, child, and shut that

door securely after you; I’m getting to be dreadfully sensitive to draughts.

Chapter III. Her Opinion Of Women Boarders In Gen- Eral

The autograph of the breakfast-table! I’m going to be the autograph of my own breakfast-table, gentlemen. If our sex don’t begin to assume responsibilities some time, I’m sure I don’t know when they’ll be recorded to them ; and, for my part, I feel fully equal to the task. I trust there will ever be a literary atmosphere hanging over this dining-room. Fried onions, Mr. Porter; those are fried onions; a very healthy breakfast dish, indeed. I shall do all that I can to promote the discursive tendencies of the young gentlemen about me. I’m interested in all the leading topics of the day, and nothing would give me more glowing satisfaction than to see them successfully promoted. I have thought of instituting a debating society in the house, the questions to be argued while we’re at meals. It’s very promotive of digestion to talk a good deal while you’re eating. What’s that, Mr. Little ? And very saving of vittals? Well, now, you do put the queerest construction upon my conduct, which I shouldn’t put up with from some, only I know you’re so full of jokes that they just run over without your knowing it. What do you think of gastronomy, Mr. Grayson? It’s a science very much talked about since what-you-call-him w r ent up in his balloon. Gas is taking the place of kerosene and candles in most cities. Dear me ! I wish they'd introduce it into Pennyville ! It would have a very imposing effect to see the rows of lamps all lighted up along Main Street of a dark night. I should love to promenade beneath their bewitching influence, hanging upon the protecting arm of one of the sterner sex. Methinks it would awaken all the poetry of my inner nature. I should admire to have a gasburner in my bodoor. Do you recall last evening, Mr. Barker, just at that peculiar moment, how provoking it was to have to snuff the candle? If I’d have been you, I’d have let it gone without snuffing. I broke a guitar-string, I was so put out. You are sure there’s no need of any gas in this house ? Why so, Mr. Little ? Now, you must tell me or I’ll never forgive you. Oh, you saucy creature, you — he ! he ! he ! — you wish to flatter me ! I suppose my eyes are rather bright — I have been told so, so often — but they are not quite so luminous as all that comes to.

I had application for two new boarders yesterday, but I told them I was full, for I would not have taken them in for ten dollars a week apiece. Why ? Because they were women — young women and school-teachers, at that ! Didn’t I see through their wanting to board here as easy as through a pane of glass? Humph ! there never was a young lady schoolteacher yet that wasn’t wanting to get married. They knew that this was a favorite boarding-house for gentlemen — that there were several marriageable young men here, and they thought, no doubt, there would be fine times. If they had had any modesty, they wouldn’t have

Miss Shmmens Boarding House. 25 wanted to board where there were so many men, as long as they had no protectors, no father or brother to see after them. One of them evidently thought herself very handsome. They ain’t the first I ve turned away. Women boarders are a pest and a nuisance. You never found anybody that was willing to have ’em, though some is obliged to take them, that’s got families to support, which, I’m thankful to say, / haven’t. They are everlastingly in the way; their noses are in everything. If there’s ever a time or an hour when you wish they’d keep their rooms, that’s the very minute they choose to leave ’em. They spy out everything, and they’re everywhere. Supposing them two teachers had a’ come here and taken rooms — of what earthly use do you suppose my bodoor would a’ been to me? Would it have been mine or theirs most, do you think? Humph! their flounces and their curls would fill up every corner ; they’d have my guitar, and be breaking the strings, and screaming “Sleeping, I dreamed, love,” or “ I have not loved lightly,” until I was distracted. Or, supposing it was a married woman, of course she’d have a “ darling” — a squalling, angry, cross, impudent little thing, with molasses on its mouth and dirty fingers, breaking my dishes at table, down in the kitchen several times a day for “a piece,” and getting grease on my parlor carpet. His mother wouldn’t want to allow anything for his board, but he’d eat more than two common-sized men, and she’d want the privilege of doing his washing in the laundry, and clear-starching her own musings once a fortnight. She’d be asking the cook all kinds of questions, and peeking into the cellar, and the sugar-barrel, and the pantry after musty pork, or cockroaches, or hashed meat ; and if she should discover a dead fly on the dining-room floor, she’d have cramps in her stomach and lose her appetite for a month. My girl would have to trot to the door to let in all her callers, and if I’d any company myself, she’d be sure to drop in and make herself agreeable as long as they stayed ; and about once a week she’d have her three sisters, or her father and mother, or her dear Cousin John to tea, always, of course, when the table was crowded. I hate and I despise ’em. I’ll have to be worse off than I am now before I take women boarders for a living. I’d rather bleach bunnits and live in a brimstun-barrel, like old Diagonal in his tub.

Speaking of bunnits puts you in mind to ask the meaning of that shadow of one you see on my sign-board ? Ahem ! you must know, Mr. Grayson, what, being a new-comer, you were not aware of, that a relative of mine was once in the millenary business, and, as I had the sign already constructed, I thought it an excellent piece of economy to have it repainted for my present occupation ; but the painter hasn’t put on enough coats, or else it’s struck through.

Why do I say “ Single gentlemen preferred ” ? Oh, Mr. Little, you’re enough to puzzle an inexperienced person like myself. If it wasn’t for those black eyes of yours — but a woman can never be offended long, with them smiling her into good nature. Of course, if a man wasn’t a single gentleman, he’d be married ; and if he was married, he would have a wife, and would be wanting to get her boarded, too, and I just expressed my sentiments upon that subject. That’s the reason, the only reason. My breast is innocent of any other. I could have no other motive. Single gentlemen are quiet and nice, and pay their board-bill without quarrelling. They are never in the way ; I’d ruther they’d be about than not.

It’s a pleasure to me to do a favor to one of the opposite sex who has no mother or sister to go to when he wants advice or sympathy ! To bathe the aching brow ; to whisper consolation to the drooping spirits ; to pillow the weary head, so to speak, in a figurative sense ; to cling like the ivy to the oak. How beautiful is woman’s mission ! Gentlemen, if you suffer, let me know.

More milk, did you say ? There isn’t another drop in the pitcher. I don’t know what becomes of it, unless that girl throws it away. I take three pints a day, stiddy, and that, for a family of nine persons, ought to do. Will I ask Bridget to bring in some more fish? There’s no more broiled, Mr. Porter. I've known half a mackerel to furnish the table for eight persons; but we had a whole one this morning, and hash besides. I guess Bridget got it too fresh.