"It is," said Miss Josephine Burgess, kinder faint from behind her hand.
"Angelic critter," sez the lovyer.
"Now leave me," sez Miss Josephine Burgess.
"Harnsomest of created wimmen! I will," sez the 'pothecary.
"Oh how my heart beats," sez Miss Josephine Burgess.
"And mine," sez the 'pothecary, a getting up and a spreading his hand out on his yaller vest.
"Leave me now," sez Miss Josephine Burgess.
"My dear critter, I will," sez the 'pothecary.
With that he made tracks across the street, opened his empty money drawer with a sort of a chuckle, as much as to say, "if you're starved out in this way much longer I lose my guess," and then he drank off a glass of cold water, with a leetle brandy in it.
Miss Josephine Burgess sat still as a mouse, till the 'pothecary chap made himself scarce, then she let down her hands and took a squint in the glass to see how her face stood it. Arter that she went to a big drawer, where she kept her slickest dry goods, and cut off a lot of shiney red velvet, which she took up stairs, and told the gal that had charge of the work-room, to have it made up into a ball dress before the gals went home. The ten poor tired young critters were jest a beginning to think about going hum to supper, but they sot down agin and looked in each other's faces, as melancholy as could be, but said nothing. The young gal that had charge of the work-room, happened to say that in the course of a week they would have a prime lot of red velvet bonnets to sell. At this Miss Josephine Burgess looked as cross as if she'd swallowed a paper of darning needles, and told the young gal to hold her tongue, and mind her own business. At this the young gal drew up, and was a going to give the milliner her change back agin, but jest that minit she happened to think that taking sarce from a stuck up critter was bad enough, but that starving was a good deal worse; and so she choked in and went to work at the dress, with her heart a swelling in her harnsome bosom, like a bird when it's first caught.
"Don't let them gals go to sleep over their work," sez Miss Josephine Burgess, as she was a going down stairs.
The young gal who had charge of the work-room, said something sort of loud about people's having no feeling.
"What's that you say?" sez Miss Josephine Burgess, a coming back as spiteful as could be.
"Nothing," sez the young gal who had charge of the work-room.
"It's well you didn't," sez the milliner, and with that she went down stairs, and the poor tuckered out young critters didn't get hum to supper till ten o'clock at night, because they had to stay and finish off Miss Josephine Burgess's ball finery.
Miss Josephine Burgess was a sitting in the leetle room up over her store, ready dressed for the ball, when the little apprentice gal cum up and told her, that the gentleman from over the way was a waiting down stairs. The milliner jumped up and began to wriggle about afore the looking glass to be sartin that the red velvet frock, the golden chain, and the heap of posies that she'd twistified in her hair, were all according to gunter. Arter she'd took a purty gineral survey, she went down stairs about the darndest stuck up critter that you ever sot eyes on.
The 'pothecary stood afore the looking glass a trying to coax his hair to curl a leetle, and a pulling up fust one side of his white satin stock and then t'other, to make it set up parpendicular. He'd got a leetle speck of dirt on his silk stockings and his shiney dancing pumps, a coming across the street, so he took his white hankercher out of his pocket and began to dust them off; but the minit Miss Josephine Burgess cum in he stopped short, stepped back agin the wall, and held up both hands as if he raly didn't know what to du with himself, and sez he—
"I never did! Talk about the Venus de Medici, or the New York beauty! Did ever anything come up to that are?"
Arter this bust of feeling, he gin a spring fore'd and ketching her hand, eenamost eat it up, he kissed so consarned eager. It didn't seem as if there was any contenting the darn'd love-sick coot. But when he hung on too hard, the milliner's vartuous indignation begun to bile up, and so he choked off and begged her pardon; but said he couldn't help it, as true as the world he couldn't, his heart was brim full and a running over.
I ruther guess the people stared a few when the leetle 'pothecary walked along the Tammany ball-room with Miss Josephine Burgess, in her red velvet and golden chains, a hanging on his arm. Sich dashers didn't show themselves at every ball by a great sight. There was a ginuine touch of the aristocracy in the way the leetle 'pothecary turned up his nose, and flourished his white gloves; and when they stood up to dance, Miss Josephine held out her red velvet, and stuck out her foot, and curcheyed away as slick as any of the Broadway gals could a done it. But jest as she was a going to dance, who should stand afore her in the same reel but the very young gal that took charge of her work-room. The milliner had jest took a fold of the red velvet between her thumb and finger, and was flourishing out her foot to balance up as genteel as could be, but the minit she ketched sight of the working gal, she gin her head a toss and reaching out her hand to the 'pothecary, walked off to a seat in a fit of outraged dignity that was raly beautiful to look at. Arter this Miss Josephine Burgess said she wouldn't try to dance among sich low critters; and so she and the 'pothecary sidled about, eat peppermint drops and talked soft sodder to one another—alers taking care to turn up their noses when the harnsome working gal cum within gun-shot of 'em.
"Who can that gentleman be, that's a eyeing me through his glass," sez Miss Josephine Burgess to the 'pothecary, "what harnsome whiskers he's got, did you ever?"
"I don't see anything over genteel in him, any how," sez the 'pothecary a looking sort of oneasy. "I really can't see how you ladies can take a fancy to so much hair."
"But how nicely he's dressed," sez she.
"I aint over fond of shaggy vests and checkered trousers," says the 'pothecary.
"Dear me he's coming this way," sez the milliner all in a twitter,—"I hope he wont think of speaking."
"I hope so too," sez the 'pothecary, a looking as if he'd jest eat a sour lemon, without any sweetening.
The chap come along sort of easy and independent, and stood close by 'em.
"Shan't we go t'other end of the room?" sez the 'pothecary to the milliner, kinder half whispering, and a eyeing the strange chap as savage as a meat-ax. "Not yet," sez the milliner, giving a slantindicular sort of a look at the strange chap. He wasn't a feller to be sneezed at in the way of good looks any how, nor a man that was likely to lose anything by his bashfulness; for it warn't more than three minutes afore he asked the milliner to dance, and walked her out as crank as could be, right afore the 'pothecary's face. Didn't the poor leetle chap look wamble-cropped when he see that. There he stood all alone in a corner, feeling as sick as if he'd swallowed a dose of his own doctor's stuff, and there he had to stand; for arter the tall chap and Miss Josephine Burgess had got through dancing, they sot down together by a winder and begun to look soft sodder at one another, and talk away as chipper as two birds on an apple tree limb in spring time. It didn't do no good for the 'pothecary to rile up and make motions to her—she didn't seem to mind him a bit; so he stood still and grit his teeth, for it seemed to him as if the milliner and the red velvet, besides the account books, the stock in trade, and the hard chink too, was a sliding out of his grip like a wet eel.
"Darn the feller to darnation," sez he, arter he'd bore it as long as he could—and with that he went up to Miss Josephine Burgess, sort of humble, and asked her if it wasn't about time to be a going hum?
The milliner said she wasn't in any hurry about it, and went to talking with the tall chap agin. It was as much as the poor lovyer could do to keep from busting out a crying, or a swearing, he warn't partic'lar which; he felt all struck up of a heap, and went off to his corner agin as lonesome as a goose without a mate.
By-am-by the milliner she come up and told him she was about ready to go hum; the tall chap he went down stairs with them, and stood a kissing his hand to her till she got into the street. The 'pothecary raly felt as if he should bust, and he gin her a purty decent blowing up as they went along Chatham-street. She didn't give him much of an answer though, for her head was chuck full of the tall chap's soft sodder, and she didn't know more than half of what he was a jawing about.
The leetle 'pothecary went hum and hurried up to bed, but all he could du he couldn't get a wink of sleep. He got up arly in the morning, but he hadn't no appetite for his breakfast, and kinder hung about his shop door a keeping a good look out to see if anybody went to the milliner's, and a wondering if it was best for him to go over and see how she seemed to be arter what he'd said to her the night afore. So he brushed up his hair and was just taking his hat to go over and try his luck, when a harnsome green buggy waggon hauled up jest agin the milliner's, and out jumped the tall chap with the whiskers.
The 'pothecary he turned as white as a sheet and begun to cuss and swear like all natur. He had plenty of time to let his wrathy feelings bile over, for it was more than three hours afore the green buggy waggon driv away agin. The minit it was out of sight, the 'pothecary snatched up his hat and scooted across the street like a crazy critter. Miss Burgess was a sitting in her leetle back room dressed out like anything. This made him more wrathy than he was afore, for she never dressed out when he was a coming, so he went straight up to her, and sez he, sort of wrathy,
"Miss Josephine Burgess, what am I to think of this ere treatment?"
The milliner looked up as innocent as a kitten, as if she hadn't the least idee what he meant.
"What treatment?" sez she, as mealy-mouthed as could be.
The 'pothecary felt as if he should choke; he griped his hand, and the words came out of his mouth like hot bullets.
"Oh you perfidious critter, you," sez he, "how can you look in my face arter you've been a sitting three hull hours with that darn'd nasty tall coot that you danced with all the time last night."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean more than nothing. I danced with a gentleman last night, and he has been here this morning, but I raly don't see why you should trouble yourself about it," sez Miss Josephine, a taking up her work, and a beginning to sew as easy as she ever did in her life.
The 'pothecary was so mad, he couldn't but jest speak out loud. "Look a here, Miss Burgess," sez he, a speaking sort of hoarse, "aint we as good as married? didn't you engage yourself to me? and wasn't the day eenajest sot afore that consarned etarnal ball?"
"Not that I ever knew on," says Miss Burgess, a pinning a pink bow on to a bonnet she was to work on, and a holding it out to see how it looked, "I raly don't know what you mean."
The 'pothecary begun to tremble all over, he was so tarnal mad to see her setting there as cool as a cucumber.
"You don't know what I mean, do you?" sez he. "Look a here, marm, haint I been to see you off and on for more than a year? Haint I footed up your books and made out bills and done all your out-door business, this ever so long? Haint I give you ounces on ounces of jujube paste, emptied a hull jar of lemon drops, and more than half kept you in pearl powder and cold cream?"
"Wal, you needn't talk so loud and tell everybody of it," sez the milliner a going on with her work all the time, but the leetle chap had got his grit up, and there was no "who" to him. On he went like a house afire.
"Wasn't it me that stopped you from taking them are darn'd Brandreth's pills. Didn't I tell you they warn't no better than rank pisin, and that no rale lady would ever think of stuffing herself with such humbug trash? I'll be choked if I don't wish I'd let you swaller fifty boxes of 'em—I wish I had—I do by gracious!"
"Don't make such a noise," sez the milliner, "it wont do no good, I can tell you."
"Wont it though? wont it? I rather guess you'll find out in the end. I'll sue you for a breach of promise—if I don't jest tell me on't, that's all."
The 'pothecary was a going on to say a good deal more, but jest as he begun to let off steam agin some customers come into the front shop. Miss Josephine Burgess put down her work and went out as if nothing on arth had happened. The 'pothecary waited a few minits a biling over with spite, and then he kicked a bonnet block across the room, upset a chair, and cut off through the store like all possessed. The milliner was a bargaining away with her customers for dear life—she looked up and larfed a little easy, as the poor feller sneaked through the store, and that was all she cared about it.
The poor coot of an apothecary went over to his shop and slammed the door tu hard enough to shake the house down. Then he went back of the counter, took down a jar full of corrosive supplement and poured some on it out in a tumbler, but somehow there was something in the thought of dying all of a sudden, that didn't exactly come up to his idee of comfort; so he poured back the pison and took a mint julep instead—that sort of cooled him down a trifle—so he made up his mind to put off drinking the pison till by-am-by.
Every day for three weeks that green buggy waggon, and the tall man with the whiskers, stopped before Miss Josephine Burgess' door. The 'pothecary grit his teeth and eyed the pisin with so awful desperate look every time the buggy came in sight; and when he heard that Miss Josephine Burgess was a gitting her wedding frock made, and was raly a going to be married to a foreign chap as rich as a Jew, that had fallen in love with her at the Tammany ball, he filled the tumbler agin brimming full, and then chucked the pison in the grate, and said he'd be darned if he made sich an etarnal fool of himself any longer; the critter wasn't worth taking a dose of salts for, much less a tumbler brim full of pison. Arter this he bore up like a man; and one day when he saw the green buggy come a trifle arlier than ever it did afore, and see the tall chap jump out all dressed off tu kill, with white gloves on, and a white hankercher a streaming out of his coat pocket, he jest put his teeth together and looked on till he saw Miss Josephine Burgess come out with a white silk bonnet on, and a great long white veil streaming over it, and see her take a seat in the buggy waggon with the tall man in whiskers. It wasn't no news to him when he heard that Miss Josephine Burgess was married, and had sold out her shop; but when he heard that the young gal that took charge of the work-room had got some relation to buy out the stock for her, the apothecary brightened up like anything; and he was heard to say that arter all the young gal that took charge of the work-room wasn't to be grinned at in a fog; for his part, he thought her full as harnsome as Miss Josephine Burgess.
There was no two ways about it,—Miss Josephine Burgess was raly married to the tall man in whiskers, and she had sold out to the young gal that had taken charge of the work-room. About three days arter the wedding, the tall man with whiskers sot in the room over what had been Miss Josephine Burgess's store, and leetle she that had been Miss Josephine Burgess herself, sot in the tall man's lap, with one arm round his neck. Her purty slim fingers had been a playing with his shiny black curls so long that some of the black color came off and made them leetle fingers look sort of smutty. Once in a while the bride would pat the tall man's cheek and call him a naughty critter, and ask him how many ladies he'd been in love with afore he see her; and the tall man would say—"not one upon my honor!" at which she would pat his cheek agin and say she didn't believe a word on it. Then the tall man in whiskers would begin to look as if he raly had been a killing critter with the women folks, and would say that he wouldn't deny it—he had now and then his leetle flirtations, like all men of rale fashion—but he'd never in his whole life took sich a notion to a critter as he had to her. With that Miss Josephine Burgess (that was) would fling both of her arms round the tall man's neck, and declare that there was not so proud and happy a critter on the hull arth as she was.
Wal, arter this, the tall man in wiskers took hold of the chain that his bride had round her neck, and sez he, "My dear love, I raly can't bear to see you rigged out in these ere old fashioned things. When you was only a milliner they did well enough, but now you musn't wear no jewelry that aint at the top of the notch; jest pack all on 'em up, that are watch of your'n and all, and I'll go and swap 'em off for a set of jewelry that's worth while. When I take you hum among all my folks, they'd larf at these awk'ard things."
With that the bride begun to looked streaked enough, so she sot to work and lugged out all the gold things she had; her watch and great heavy chain, and ear-rings, and ever so many gim-cracks. So the tall man put them all in his pocket and took up his hat, and sez he, "I'll soon get rid of these ere things, and bring you something that is something."
Miss Josephine Burgess that was, said there never was so kind a critter, and jest to let her see that she wasn't much out in saying that are, he cum back from the door, and sez he, "Seeing as I'm a going out, I may as well take that are little sum of money and put in some bank for you; of course I don't want anything of it, but it raly don't seem jest safe here, among all these sewing gals." Miss Josephine Burgess that was went to her chest of drawers and took out a heap of bank bills and gave them to him. The tall man in whiskers put the bills in his trousers' pocket, buttoned it up tight, then give the pocket a leetle slap and was a going out agin. But Miss Josephine Burgess that was she follered arter and sticking her head through the door she sung out sort of easy, sez she,
"My dear darling, you've forgot something!"
"You don't say so," sez the tall man in whiskers, and he stood up straight as a loon's leg, "what is it—any more jewelry, my pet?"
"Can't you guess?" said Miss Josephine Burgess that was, sort of sly, a twisting her head a one side, and pussing out her mouth awful tempting.
"Oh," sez the man in whiskers, and then there was a little noise as if a bottle of Newark cider had been uncorked kinder easy.
"You'll come right straight back, dear?" sez Miss Josephine Burgess that was, a running to the door agin—"you will, won't you?"
"Sartinly, my sweet love," sez the tall man in whiskers, a stopping on the stairs and kissing her hand over the railing.
"By-by," sez Miss Josephine Burgess that was.
"By-by," sez the tall man in whiskers.
Miss Josephine Burgess that was sot by the window and looked arter the tall man till he got eenamost down to Chatham square. She waited a hull hour and he didn't come back; then she waited two hours; then all night; and the next week and the next, till she'd been a waiting three hull months,—and arter all the tall man in whiskers didn't seem to hurry himself a bit.
About a year arter the Tammany ball, the leetle 'pothecary was sitting in the back room of what once was Miss Josephine Burgess's milliner store—his wife that used to take charge of the work-room, stood close by; and the 'pothecary was a looking over his wife's day book. Jest as he was a adding up a tarnal long row of figures, one of the hands come down stairs and was a going out.
"Look a here, Miss Josephine Burgess, or Miss what's your name." sez the 'pothecary, "if you're determined to go home the minit your hour is up, these hurrying times, it's my idee that you'd better look out for some other shop to work in."
The color riz up in the poor woman's face, but it was her turn to be snubbed and drove about, without daring to say her soul was her own. So instead of riling up, she spoke as meek as could be, and sez she, "I aint very well, I've got a dreadful headache."
"Cant help that," sez the 'pothecary, "we pay you twenty shillings a week, fust rate wages, to work, so you may jest step back to the work-room with your headache, or I'll dock off fifty cents when it comes Saturday night if you don't. Go troop—I'll have you to know you aint mistress in this shop, or master neither."
Miss Josephine Burgess had a temper of her own, but she owed for her board, and so choked in and went up stairs as mad as all natur.
The apothecary's wife was a good hearted critter, and it raly made her feel bad to see her old boss used so.
"Don't speak so to her," sez she to the 'pothecary, "she raly looks tired and sick, don't hurt her feelings."
"Humbug," sez the 'pothecary, stretching himself up, and a buttoning his trousers' pocket as pompously as could be, "humbug, what bisness have sewing girls with feelings."
"I was a sewing gal once," sez the 'pothecary's wife.
"Yes—and how did that darned stuck up critter use you, tell me that?" sez he.
The 'pothecary's wife didn't answer; but the minit her husband had gone out she went into the kitchen and took a bowl of ginuine hot tea up to the work room. Miss Josephine Burgess that was, sot on a stool looking as mad as a march hare; she began to sew as soon as the 'pothecary's wife come in, as grouty as could be; but when the kind critter gin her the bowl of tea, and told her it would be good for her head-ache, the poor sewing girl boo-hooed right out a crying.
Jonathan Slick.
Jonathan gets Ill and Homesick—Resists all entreaties to go to Washington, and resolves on going back to "the Humstead" with Captain Doolittle.
Dear Par:
Wal, arter writing that story about the Bowery Milliner, I begun to think York was a going to be rather too hot to hold me. All the boss milliners in York got into a tantrum and kicked up sich a darned rumpus that I raly begun to be afear'd that they'd cum down to my office in Cherry-street, and get up a fourth of July oration, or a she caucus, and girt me to death in a pair of them darned French corsets. But the peaked little working gals, they were eenamost tickled to death with that story, and there warn't no eend to the harnsome sweet critters that cum to my office a crying and yet half a smiling, to thank me for taking up on their side. One thing though made me feel bad enough. That etarnal leetle stuck up old maid got so allfired wrothy that she turned Susan Read out of her place, and cheated her out of some of her wages too. Darn her it makes me gritty only jest to think on it. But she'd better look out, I can tell her; for if I take her up agin, consarn me if I don't use her up till she aint bigger than the tip eend of a pine stick whittled down to nothing.
Wal, as the spring come on I began to git peaked, and every morning felt sort of wamblecropped in my stomach when I woke up. I s'pose it was cause I couldn't git pork and dandelines and prime fresh young onions right out of the arth, as I used tu to hum. The editors of the Express, they wanted me to take an emetic, but I told 'em I couldn't think of sich a thing, it was agin natur. I looked sort of solemn, jest as I always do when they use any of them French words that I don't understand, and made up my mind to look in Boyer's Dictionary, and find out the meaning of emetic the fust thing arter I got hum.
"Wal," sez they, "if you don't like that, Mr. Slick, s'posing you take a trip to the Seat of Gineral Government, and see how them Loco Foco chaps are a carrying on there, it'll answer all the same."
"Wal," sez I, arter thinking it all over in arnest, "it seems to me as if I was kinder hankering arter the green trees and the grass and cows, and the wind that comes straight down from heaven, where you can breathe it out on your own hook, and not take it second hand, as we do in York. I raly think I should feel like a new critter if I could only go hum a spell and weed the young onions." With that I begun to think about the humsted, and how it was gitting towards planting time; and think sez I, par 'll miss me about these times, and marm too, for she wont have any body to do her milking when it rains, nor to bring water and du up all the leetle chores that I al'rs did for her. Then I seemed to see our orchard all a leaving out thick and kivered over with apple blows; and it seemed tu me as if I was a setting on the stun wall, jest as I used to when I was a leetle shaver, a looking how fast the grass grew and a wondering how long it would be afore green apple time. There was the well-crotch and the pole, and the bucket a hanging to it, as plain as day, and the peach tree that grows by it chuck full of pink blows. There was you a gitting out the oxen to go to ploughing, and there was marm out in the meadow at the back door, a picking plantin leaves for greens, with her old sun bonnet on, and a tin pail to put the greens in.
Oh dear, how humsick I did feel! I could a boo-hooed right out, if it would a done any good, when I sort of come tu, and found out that I was setting in the Express office, with nothing but picters of that old critter, Gineral Harrison, and a heap of newspapers scattered every which way over the floor, to look at.
"Wal," sez the Editor, sez he, "Mr. Slick, what do you think about it? you raly ought to go to Washington, to see the President and the lions."
I put one leg over t'other, and winked my eyelids for fear he'd see how near I come to crying; and arter a leetle while, sez I—
"I haint no kind of doubt that that are Washington is a smasher of a city; but somehow, if you'd jest as livs, I'd a leetle ruther go hum."
"Yes," sez he, "I haint the least doubt on it; but then, if you git out of the city, it don't make much difference which way you go."
I see that he'd made up his mind to have his own way; but think sez I, you don't git it without another tough pull, anyhow; so sez I—
"I raly feel as if I must doctor a leetle; and when a feller feels tuckered out, or down-hearted, there is no place like hum, if it's ever so homely,—and nobody can take care of a feller like his own marm. Now I know jest how it'll be—the minit I git hum, the old woman will go to making root-beer; she'll sarch all over the woods for saxafax-buds to make tea on, and there'll be no eend to the snake root and fennel seed bitters that she'll make me drink. I raly feel as if I must go; so don't you say any more about it," sez I; "I shall come back agin as bright as a new dollar."
If there is anything on arth that holds on hard, it's a York Editor; a lamper-eel is nothing to one on 'em. They'd have their own way, if the Old Nick himself stood afore them as big as the side of a house.
By-am-by the hull truth come out; sez the Editor, sez he, a speaking as soft and mealy-mouthed as could be, sez he—
"But, Mr. Slick, you can't write any letters for us in Weathersfield; so jest make up your mind to start right off. You can go hum any time."
"But I want to doctor," sez I.
"Oh, take a box of Sherman's cough lozengers," sez he, a smiling; "they cured you last winter, you know." With that, he let off a stream of soft sodder, sez he, "a man of your talents oughtn't to bury himself in the country. The members of Congress are all a-tip-toe to see you, and so are the gals in Washington—the Russian Embassador's wife and all on 'em."
It warn't in human natur to stand agin this; so I sort of relented.
"Oh, you're a joking," sez I, a hitching on my chair; "I don't raly s'pose the Washington gals ever heard of me in their hull lives."
"Hain't they, though," sez he.
"Wal," sez I, "I should kinder like tu go, jest to see what Congress people look like. I've a sort of a notion that mebby I shall run for Congressman myself one of these days. I don't believe there's a feller in all York better qualified. When I come away from Weathersfield, I could lick any feller there, big or leetle; and I've a sort of a sort of a notion that I can dress out any of them varmints in the Capitol, if they do practice a leetle more than I du."
The Editor of the Express, he larfed a leetle easy, and sez he, "Well, Mr. Slick, it's all settled then—and the sooner you start the better."
"I'll think about it," sez I.
Wal, I went back tu the office and sot down, kinder loth tu go so far from hum as Washington City, and yet anxious to oblige the Editor of the Express; but all I could du, thoughts of the humsted kept a crowding intu my mind till I couldn't stand it no longer, but kivered up my face with both of my hands and took tu crying like a sick baby. Jest then—while I was a feeling dreadfully—somebody opened the door of my office, and in walked Captain Doolittle, with his hand out, and a grinning from ear tu ear as if he was eenajest tickled tu death to see me agin.
I jumped right up and shook hands with him, while I turned my face away and wiped my eyes with the cuff of my coat, for I felt ashamed to let him ketch me a crying.
But there is no cheating that old coot, he's wide awake as a night hawk.
"Jonathan," sez he, "What's the matter—you look as thin as a shad in summer—consarn me if I don't believe you have been boo-hooing."
"You've lost your guess this time," sez I, a trying to put on a stiff upper lip.
The old feller, he looked in my face, and then agin on the cuff of my coat—then he folded his arms and stepped back and eyed me all over, and sez he at last,
"Jonathan, one thing is sartin, either you've been a crying, or you've told a whopper to your old friend, or—"
"Or what?" sez I, wiping the cuff of my coat on my trousers' leg—"or what?"
"Or your deginerated—deginerated!" sez he, "deginerated from the Weathersfield stock!"
"Wal, I don't seem to understand how you'll make that out," sez I.
"Jonathan," sez he, as arnest as could be, "there was tears in your eyes jest as I come in, and you was ashamed on 'em. Now, sich tears as a smart, honest young man may feel in his eyes naturally, are nothing to be ashamed on; when he gets to thinking of hum or old friends, or perhaps them that are dead and gone,—the drops that come up unawares to moisten his eyes are wholesome to his natur. I've seen the time, Jonathan, when a minister's prayer didn't seem half so easing to the heart. An honest chap might as well feel streaked about saying the Lord's Prayer; for the tears that thinking of them that we love sets a going, have eenamost as much religion in 'em as singing and praying and going to meeting altogether. Prayer, Jonathan, prayer falls upon the natur like the warm sun on a patch of young onions—and tears, ginuine tears that come from tender thoughts, Jonathan, darn me if they ain't the rain that keeps the young shoots green. You wouldn't have been scared about my seeing sich tears, Jonathan, and I know you've got tu much grit for any other—you aint the chap to snuffle and cry because things go crooked with you—I'm sartin of that."
"I reckon you may be," sez I.
"Wal, Jonathan," says the captin, a folding his arms close up to the red shirt that kivered his bosom, "there aint but one way of accounting for it. I never would a believed it, but you've deginerated. These Yorkers have larned you to be ashamed of eating onions—it's jest arter dinner time—I see through it all—you've been a thinking of hum, and tried a raw onion for once—your eyes aint used to it now, and that's what makes 'em so red and misty. I have seen the time, Jonathan Slick, when you could cut up a hull peck without winking; I've seen you cronch one like a meller apple; and now, arter living in York, this is the eend on't."
"Come, captin," sez I, a holding out my hand, "don't make a coot of yourself, I can eat a raw onion without winking as well as ever I could. Seeing as you can peak so consarned far into a mill-stun, I may as well own up and settle the hash to once. I've been kinder peaked and hum-sick ever since spring opened. I sot down here all alone, got a thinking of old times and things to hum, and that sort of made me cry afore I knew it; that's the hull truth, and I'd jest as livs you knew it as not."
Captin Doolittle, he gin my hand a grip, and sez he, "That's right, Jonathan, own up like a man, I see intu it now—hum-sick as git out—just what I wanted. The old sloop is ready to sail right off—pack up your saddle-bags, jump aboard, and we'll be in Weathersfield in less than no time. Your par and mar, and Judy White, and all the folks tu hum will be tickled eenamost tu death to see you."
I felt my heart jump right intu my mouth, but it sunk agin like a chunk of lead when I thought that I'd eenajest agreed to go tu Washington. "Captin," sez I, "I'm afeared I can't go—I've nigh about promised to go tu Washington City."
"Washington City be darned," sez he, a going intu my back room and a lugging out my saddle-bags; "Washington City can't hold a candle tu Weathersfield this time of the year. You can't think how fresh and green everything looks; the square before the meeting-house is as green as grass can be—the laylock trees in front of the humstead are all in full blow—we've had young lettuce and pepper-grass there these three weeks—think of that! with good sharp vinegar, plenty of pepper and salt, and a sprinkle of young onion-tops mixed in jest as they come from the patch by the eend of the barn,—Gosh, but don't it make your mouth water only to think on it, Jonathan."
"I swow, captin, there's no standing it, I must go."
"Sartinly you must—the old woman would go off the handle if I should come back without you and Judy White. That Judy is a nation harnsome gal, Jonathan. She told me tu jest mention that the orchard over agin the house was in full blow and every tree chuck full of robins' nests. You can smell that orchard half-a-mile off, Jonathan, but Judy says it kinder makes her molencholy tu see the trees a budding out so agin, and the birds a singin from mornin to night among 'em, and nobody tu enjoy it but her."
"I'll go, by gauly offalus—I'll go," sez I, "but what will the editors of the Express say," sez I, feelin all over in spots about goin off so.
"The Express go tu grass," sez Captin Doolittle, a crowding my pepper and salt trousers intu the saddle-bags.
"Jest so," sez I, a helping him strap up the bags; "I'll write a letter hum tu say I'm jest a startin, and send it through the Express, and that will let the editors know what I've detarmined on."
"Jest so," sez Captin Doolittle, "and I guess I'll go down to the sloop with the saddle-bags. I only jest got in last night, took out the ladin this morning, and we shall be a cuttin down the East river afore sunset; quick work, I reckon, don't you think so, Jonathan?"
"I should rather think it was," sez I.
"Wal," sez he, a shoulderin the saddle-bags, "write off the letter and come right down. You mustn't let the grass grow under your feet, now I tell you. Your marm will be about the tickledest critter that you ever sot eyes on when you git back agin—she's got a hull lot of winter apples saved up yit agin you cum. I wish you could a seen the old critter a knittin away all the long winter evenings tu git you a hull grist of socks made up; she seamed every darned one on 'em clear through, jest because it was for you, Jonathan."
"You don't say so!" sez I, kinder half cryin agin; "now du git out, will you? I want tu write my letter."
With that, the Captin he went off saddle-bags and all. I sot down and wrote off this letter about the quickest, I can tell you. I shall send it up tu the Express office, and if we have good luck, it won't be long arter you git it afore you will shake hands with us.
Your loving son,
Jonathan Slick.
JONATHAN SLICK RETURNED.
Jonathan's Arrival in New York from the onion beds at Weathersfield—Jonathan puts up at the Astor House—His notion of that great heap of stones—Jonathan's Ideas of a New York Cab, and the usual quarrel of a Stranger with Cabmen—A Sensation is created at the Astor.
Dear Par:
Here I am down in York agin, as large as life and as springy as a steel trap. Hurra! but don't it make a feller feel as suple as a green walnut gad to have these stun side walks under his shoe leather once more! I raly felt as if I could a'most have jumped over the housen, eend foremost, I was so glad to git ashore at Peck Slip. Captin Doolittle, he kept his gab a going, a hull hour, a trying to make out it warn't worthy a ginuine Yankee to hanker after the York big bugs so. Now my opinion is, Captin Doolittle ain't no bad judge of onions and other garden sarse, and he did run the old sloop down here as slick as grease, but when he sets himself up to talk about genteel society, he raly is green.
Look a here, par, did I ever tell you what a looking place that Astor House is? If I didn't, jest you suppose that all the stun walls in old Connecticut had been hewed down as smooth as glass, and heaped together, one a-top of t'other, over two acres of clearing, up and up, half away to the sky and a leetle over; suppose then the hull etarnal great heap cut up into winders and doors, with almighty great slabs of stun piled up for steps and pillars standing on eend, on the top, to hold them down—bigger than the highest oak tree you ever sot eyes on, and then you have some idee what a whopping consarn that Astor House is.
At fust I felt a leetle skeery at going to board there, for think sez I, if they charge according to the size of the house, I guess it'll make my puss strings ache; but, think sez I agin, the best taverns, according to my experience, all'rs charge the leastest prices, I will give 'em a try any how.
I gin a cuffy on the wharf two cents to go and get a carriage for me, for I meant to du the thing up in genteel style, and cut the hull figger when I once begun. Besides, the cabin was so stived up with onion barrels and heaps of red cabbages, besides the turnips and winter squashes, that I hadn't no room to fix up in till I got a hum somewhere else, and my dandy clothes have got a leetle the wus for wear, and don't cut quite so much of a dash as they used tu. I hadn't but jest time to rub them down a trifle with a handful of oat straw that I took from one of the winter apple barrels, and to slick down my hair a few, with both my hands, when the nigger cum back and said he couldn't find a carriage, but he'd got a fust rate cab.
Sartinly that cab was one of the darndest queer animals that ever run arter a hoss. It looked like a set of stairs on wheels, with a great overgrown leather trunk sot on eend half way up, with the lid turned over one side. The horse was hitched to the lowermost step, and on the top step of all, clear back, sot a feller histed up in the air with a great long whip, and lines that reached clear over the hull consarn to the horse's head, and this chap was the driver; but he looked as if he'd been sot there wrong eend foremost, and felt awfully streaked and top-heavy about it. It raly was curious to watch the chap as he laid his lines on the top of the box and crept down stairs to stow away my saddle-bags and the hair trunk that marm gin me. When he'd got through, I jest lifted one foot from the ground, and there I sot in a little cushioned pen, like a rooster in a strange coop, or a rat in an empty meal bin. The feller slam'd tu the door and went up the steps behind agin, then I ketched sight of the lines a dangling over head, like a couple of ribbon snakes a twisting about in the sunshine; and away we went trundling along like a great oversized wheelbarrow, with a horse before, a driver behind, and a poor unfortunate critter like me cooped in the middle, with a trunk and pair of saddle-bags for company.
Well, on we went hitch-a-te-hitch, jerk-a-ty-jerk through the carts and horses till we got out of the slip, and then we kept on a leetle more regular till by-and-by the horse he stopped all of himself jest afore the Astor House.
"Wal," sez I to the driver, a feeling in my trousers' pocket for a ninepence—for the nigger told me that them new fangled cabs had sot up a sort of cheap opposition to the hacks—so sez I,
"Wal, what's the damage?"
"Only a dollar," sez he, a giving my saddle-bags and trunk a jerk onto the steps, and eying my old dandy clothes sort of supercilious, as if he thought it would be a tough job for me to hand over the chink. I begun to rile up a leetle, but arter a minit I happened to think that no ginuine gentleman ever gits mad with sich a ruff scuff, so I jest looked in his face, and sez I,
"How you talk!"
With that I gin him a quarter of a dollar, for I didn't want to be mean; but the varmint begun to bluster up as if he wanted to kick up a tantrum. I didn't seem to mind it, but the critter hung on yit for a whole dollar, like a dog to a sassafras root, and when some waiters cum down and took away my things, he followed, and ketching hold of the saddle-bags, said the things shouldn't go till he'd got his pay. With that I went up to him agin, and sez I,
"Make yourself scarce, you etarnal mean coot, or I'll give you the purtyest specimen of Weathersfield sole leather that you ever sot eyes on—one that'll send you up them wheelbarrow steps of yourn swifter than you cum down, a darned sight. You needn't look at me—I'm in arnest, and I'll du it, or my name aint Jonathan Slick."
Oh human natur', how the varmint wilted down when I said this; he took off his hat, and sez he—as mean as a frozen potater—says he,
"I didn't know as it was you."
"I rather guess you didn't," says I.
The feller seemed to feel so sheepish that it sort of mollified me, and so I up and gave him another four-pence-ha'penny. With that I went up the steps, up and up till I cum to a great long stun hall that reached tu all creation, with a kind of a bar-room at one end. It was a sort of a stun side-walk a shut up in a house; for lots of men were talking and walking about as easy as if they'd been in the street. I went up to the bar-room, where a chap sot with sour looks, as if he felt to hum all over, and says I—
"Do you take in boarders here?"
The chap looked at me from the top of my head to the sole of my foot, as if he'd never seen a full sized Yankee in his life; and after fidgeting about, says he—
"Yes, we du sometimes, but mebby you've mistook the place."
"I reckon not," says I. "How much du you charge a week? I paid two dollars and fifty cents down in Cherry-street, but I s'pose you go as high as four dollars, or say four fifty."
The feller looked sort of flustered; so thinks says I, I haint got up the notch yet, so I'll give one more hist.
"Wal, sir, it goes agin the grain; but seeing as it's the Astor House, per'aps I might give as high as five dollars, if you'd throw in the washing. I aint hard on clothes, say a shirt and three dickeys, with a pair of yarn socks a week, and a silk hankercher once a fortnight. I shall have to be a trifle extravagant in that line."
The feller grew red in the face, and looked as if he was tickled tu death at gitting such an offer. Think sez I, I hope to gracious I haint made a coot of myself, and bid up too high. I got so consarned before the chap spoke, that I sort of wanted to git off edgeways. There was a great day-book a lying by him, and sez I—
"I see you trust out board by your books; but I'm ready to hand over every Saturday night; so per'haps you'll take less for cash."
The feller sort of choked in a larf, and sez he—
"That aint a day-book, only one we keep for folks that come here to write down their names in."
Think sez I, I guess I'll write my name, and then he'll see that he's got hold of a cute hand for a bargain, and may dock off a trifle on that are five dollars.
"O," sez I, "that's it; well, give us hold here, and I'll write my name right off for you."
The feller handed over the pen. I stretched out my right arm, turned the cuff of my coat over, flourished off a long-tailed J, till the ink spattered all over the book; then I streaked along to the S, curled it up harnsomely, and finished off with a k that would have made Mr. Goldsmith, the writing-master, in Broadway, feel awk'ard if he'd seen it.
I wish you could have seen that Astor House chap, when he read the name; he looked as if he didn't know what to du, but at last he stepped back, and he made a bow, and sez he,—
"Mr. Slick, we are glad to see you at the Astor House, and we hope you'll stay with us as long as you remain in the city!"
I made him a snubbed sort of a bow, for I didn't want him to think I was over anxious to stay till we'd clinched the bargain about the board, and sez I,—
"Wal, now about the price of your fodder; I s'pose you'll dock a leetle on that offer of mine. It's an allfired hard price, now ain't it?"
"O," sez he, "never mind the board, Mr. Slick, we shan't be hard with you on that score. The man will show you a room, and I hope you'll feel yourself quite to hum with us."
With that a feller cum up to look at the big book, and then he whispered to another, and it wasn't two minits afore a hul squad of fellers cum around, as if I'd been a bear set up for a show, at a copper a head.
One of the chaps he cut up stairs like all possessed, as if he was a going tu bring up somebody else, so I begun to think it about time for me to cut stick; so I hollered arter a waiter, and told him to take me up where he'd put my trunk. The chap went ahead, and I follered arter.
I tell you what, it wants a steady head to navigate through all them long entry ways, and up them stairs, around and across every which way, as I did, till I came to a room door up at the tip top of the house. My head went around like a fly-trap. When the door was shut I was so dizzy, I opened the winder, and looked out tu see if the cold air wouldn't du me good. O gracious me! didn't it make me ketch my breath tu see how high up they'd stuck me. The clouds seemed to be purty close neighbors. I looked right straight over the biggest trees in the park, as if they'd been black alder bushes, and my nose cum jest about on a line with the City Hall clock. It sartinly did make me feel a leetle skittish to look down into Broadway. The men went streaking along like a crowd of good-sized rats a going out a visiting, and the gals that went sidling along under their parasols, were the darndest harnsome little finefied things I ever dreamed of. It seemed as if all the wax dolls had broke loose from the store winders, and was a walkin out to take the air with each on 'em a toad-stool to keep the sun of. Taking the hul together, men and gals, coaches, cabs, trees, and horses, it was about the funniest sight I ever sot eyes on.
It was worth while to look down on the front of the housen too, only one felt all the time as if he was a goin to topple down head fust. The winder to my room wasn't none of the largest, and a round vine, all cut out of the solid stun, was twistified round it on the outside; and a heap of the same sort stretched along the right and left side like a string of purty picters hung out for show. Think sez I, if any body would look up and see me a standing here, they might see the true profile of Jonathan Slick cut off at the shoulders and hung in a frame, a live picter, without paint or whitewash. I wish to gracious some of them York artists would paint me jest so, for I raly must a looked like a picter while I stood in that winder, but it made me worse insted of better, so I hauled in my head.
Arter I'd gin myself a good sudsing in the wash-hand basin, I unbuckled my saddle-bags, and thought I'd fix up a leetle, for somehow my clothes seemed to smell sort of oniony arter sleeping so long in the sloop cabin. Since I've been hum my hair has grown about right, only it's a leetle sun-burnt; but that don't show much when I've combed it out slick with a fine tooth comb, and rubbed it down with a ball of pomatum, scented with wintergreen. I parted it straight down the middle, like some of the gals afore class meeting; and I slicked it down with both hands, till it glistened like a black cat in the dark.
Arter I'd purty near satisfied myself with that, I sot tu and put on the red and blue checkered trousers that marm cut and made arter my dandy clothes made in York. They are a ginuine fit, except that they strain rather severe on the galluses, and pucker jest the leastest mite about the knee jints; but they aint so coarse for all tow, nor the cam-colored coat neither. The cotton dicky that you and Judy fixed up for me, curled up around my chin and under the ears about the neatest; they looked as good as linen, every mite; and when I twisted that checkered silk scarf, that Judy gave me for a keep-sake arter she got mollified about my going to York, around my neck, and let the long ends, fringe and all, hang down sort of careless over my green vest, criscrossed with red streaks, I ruther guess you haint seen a chap of my size dressed up so in a long time.
You know that great harnsome broach that I bartered away the apple sarse for in Hartford last fall. Wal, I was jest a sticking that into my shirt bosom, and a thinking what a consarned harnsome feller was a peaking at me out of the looking glass, when somebody knocked at the door. I stopped to twistify my dicky down a trifle, and to shake a leetle speck of essence of wintergreen on my hankercher, and then I went to the door.
One of the chaps that I'd seen down stairs was there; he didn't say nothing, but made a bow and gin me a piece of stiff paper about as big as the ace of spades, with "Fanny Elssler" printed right in the middle on it.
Wal, think sez I, "what on arth does this mean? I haint seen a door yard fence nor a post since I come to York, but this ere etarnal name was stuck up on it, and now I'll be choked if it haint chased me up here into the tip top of the Astor House." As I was a thinking of this, I kinder turned the paper in my hand, and there on t'other side was a heap of the purtyest leetle finefied writing that I ever did see. It was as plain as print, and as fine as a spider's web, but I couldn't make out a word of it to save my life.
I never was so flustrated in my born days, but arter thinking on it a jiffy, I seemed to understand it, and was sartin that somebody had writ a new fangled sort of a letter to Fanny Ellsler, and had sent it to my room instead of her'n.
I run out into the entry way and hollered "hellow" to the chap like all natur, but he'd made himself scarce, and so I went back agin. I swanny, if I knew how to fix it. I didn't want the pesky critter's letter, and then agin, I didn't much want to go and carry it to her, for fear she'd take me for one of them long-haired, lantern-jawed coots that hanker round sich foreign she critters, like lean dogs a huntin around a bone. But then agin I raly had a sort of a sneaking notion to see her, if I could as well as not. So I up and went to the looking glass and gin my hair a slick or two, and took, a sort of gineral survey, to be sartin that I was according to gunter.
There wasn't no mistake in that chap, I can tell you. Everything was smooth as amber-grease, and my hair was so shiney and slick that a fly would a slipped up if he'd ventured to settle on it. I ony jest pulled the corner of my new handkercher out of my coat pocket a trifle, then I put my hat on with a genteel tip upwards, and down I went, chomping a handful of peppermint drops as I went along in case my breath hadn't quite got over the smell of fried onions that Captin Doolittle gin me for breakfast aboard the sloop.
"Look a here," sez I to a chap that I cum across in one of the entryways as I was a trying to circumnavigate down stairs, "you don't know where abouts Miss Elssler lives, now du you?"
"Yes," sez he, a stopping short, "she has the large parlor in front, jest over the great entrance on the second floor."
"What! she don't live here in the Astor House, does she?" sez I,
"Sartinly," sez he.
"You don't say so," sez I.
"Yes I do say so," sez he, a larfin.
"Wal, now I cum to think on it I guess you du," sez I; "but I say now, you hadn't jest as livs as not go and show me the door, had you?"
"Oh, I haint no particular objections," sez he, and with that he begun twistifying down stairs and around and across, and I arter him like the tail to a kite, till by-am-by he hauled up close to a room door, and arter saying, "this is the room," and giving a bow, cut off before I'd time to ask him how his marm was.
Your affectionate son,
Jonathan Slick.
JONATHAN SLICK AND FANNY ELSSLER.
A live Yankee and the Parisian Danseuse—Fanny sends her Card and Jonathan makes a call—Down East Yankee and French-English rather hard to be understood—Jonathan quite killed off by Fanny's Curchies and Dimples—A little sort of a Flirtation—An Invitation to see Fanny in Nathalie, which is accepted.
Dear Par:
I swow, I thought I should a choked, my heart riz so when I see that I'd got to go in alone, and when I took hold of the chunk of brass that opens the door, I felt the blood a biling up into my face like hot sap in a sugar kettle. I kinder half opened the door, and then I kinder shut it agin; arter ketching a good long breath I give the door a rap, and begun to pull up my dicky sort of careless to let 'em know I wasn't scared nor nothing, and then I rapped agin.
Gracious! before I took my fist away, the door opened softly as if it slid on ile, and there stood a woman sort of harnsome and sort a not, with a leetle cap chuck full of posies stuck on the back of her head, a looking me right in the face as cosey as if she'd been acquainted with me when I was a nussing baby. I put my foot out to give her my primest bow, but think sez I, mebby it aint Miss Elssler arter all; she looks too much like an old maid for that; so I gin my foot a jerk in and my hand a genteel flurish towards her, and sez I—
"How do you du marm?"
She looked at me sort of funny, and her mouth begun to pucker itself up, but sez she, "How do you du?" a biting off the words as short as pie crust.
"Purty well, I'm obliged to you," sez I, "Miss Elssler aint to hum, is she?"
The critter looked at me as sober as a clam in high water, but yet she seemed to be kinder tickled inside of her, and turning her head round she let out a stream of stuff to somebody inside. It wasn't talking, nor singing, nor scolding, nor yet was it crying, but some sort of sounds kept a running off from her tongue as soft as a brook over a bed of white pebble stuns, and about as fast tu. She kept her hand a running up and down as if she'd half a notion to beat time to her own new fashioned singing, till all tu once, up cum a critter from t'other eend of the room, all dressed in white, as if she'd jest cum out of a band-box, with allfired harnsome black hair sleeked down each side of her face, with a hull swad of it twisted up behind, with a golden pin stuck through the heap, like one of marm's spindles spiked through a hunk of flax. The head of the pin was as big as a shag-bark walnut, and some sort of stun was sot in it that was like a gal's mind, no two minits alike—now it was red, now yaller, now green, and again all these colors seemed jumbled together and a flashing inside of it till you couldn't tell which was which. I swanny, if it didn't glisten so that I eenamost forgot that it was stuck in a woman's head, and that she was a looking into my face as mealy-mouthed and soft as could be.
"Has the gentleman mistook the room," sez she—
The words were sort of snipped off, but oh gracious, warn't they sweet! lasses candy and maple sugar was in every syllable. It seemed as if the critter had been fed forever on nothing but mellow peaches and slippery elm bark, she spoke so soft. She kinder smiled tu, but it was nat'ral as could be. Think sez I mebby the coot has led me into the wrong goose pen, but there aint no help for it now. So I jest walked a step for'ard, and sez I—
"How do you du marm?"
"I kinder guess there aint no mistake worth a mentioning. If Miss Elssler aint to hum I'll make tracks and cum agin, it aint no trouble, I'd just as livs as not, but I guess I'll leave this ere letter for fear she may want it. Some etarnal coot brought it up to my room, but I suppose the critter didn't know no better—some of these York chaps are green as young potatoes, don't you think so, marm?"
I didn't wait for no answer, but handed over the new fangled letter, and was a going right off agin, but she looked at the letter sort of astonished, and then at me, till I didn't know what to make of it. Arter a minit, sez she—
"Why dis is the card for Mr. Slick, one of de Editors of de Express who has just arrived; certainly he could not be so rude as to send it back again."
Oh gracious! think sez I, "Jonathan Slick, if you haint broke your onion string now!"
"Was the gentleman out?" sez she, looking at the paper, and then at me agin.
Think sez I—"You'd better ask his marm," for I'll be darned if he can tell that, or anything else. I aint quite sartin if he knows jest this minit which eend his head's on. But there's nothing like keeping a stiff upper lip in sich places as York. In less than half a jiffy I reached out my hand sort of easy, and took the paper out of her hand, and then I gin her a smile, as much as to say, aint I a careless shote? and, sez I,
"Now I swanny, did you ever! Well now who'd a thought it,"—and with that I began to feel in my vest, and dug my hands down in my trousers' pockets, as if I'd give the wrong paper, and had lost something else, and wouldn't give up till I'd found it. I didn't seem content till I'd pulled out my yaller hankercher and shook it, and then I stopped still, and sez I,
"Now if this don't beat all, aint I the beatermost feller for losing things? Howsomever, it's well it aint no worse. I can write another almost any time. Jest tell Miss Elssler that Mr. Slick has called in to thank her for her harnsome little keepsake, and that he's felt awfully wamblecropped when he found out she wasn't to hum."
The woman that come to the door fust, she looked at the other and begun gabbling away, and then the black haired one, sez she,
"Oh, Mister Sleeke, pardon! pardon! I am so sorry to keep you so long standing. I did not know! walk in, walk in. I am most happy to see gentlemen of de press—most happy of any to see Mister Sleeke." With that she stepped back and made the purtyest leetle curchy that ever I see; it was like a speckled trout diving into a brook jest enough to give a curve to the water and no more.
"Oh dear!" think sez I, "Jonathan Slick, if you havn't been a weeding in the wrong bed agin. That critter is Fanny Elssler as true as all creation; no woman on arth could make sich a curchy but her." I guess my face blazed up a few, but I seen that there was no backing out, so not to be behind hand in good manners I stepped back, put out my foot with a flourish that made the seams to my new trousers give; then I drew my right heel into the hollow of my left foot, and kept a bending for'ard all the time with a sort of deliberate gentility, till my eyes had to roll up the leastest mite to keep sight of her'n. Then I drew up agin easy, like a jack-knife with a tough spring, and finished off with a flurish of my hand up to my hat and back agin; that last touch left me standing parpendic'lar right before her, as a free born citizen of America ought tu.
"Miss Elssler," sez I, "how do you du? You haint no idea how tickled I am to see you."
That and the bow of mine did the bisness for her. I never did see a critter act so tickled—the dimples kept a coming and going round that sweet mouth of her'n like the bubbles on a glass of prime cider. Her eyes were brimful of funny looks, and she grew harnsomer every minit. Her face realy was like a picture book; every time I took a peak it seemed as if she'd turned over a new leaf with a brighter pictur painted on it.
She went along towards a bench all cushioned off, that looked as if it was tu good to be sot on, and there she stood a waving that white hand, as much as to say, set down here Mr. Slick, and don't be particlar about gitting too fur off from them square pillars for I shall set agin them myself.
I made her a kind of a half bow, and then arter giving my hand a wave to match her'n,—sez I—
"Arter you is manners for me."
The critter understands what good manners is; her black eyes begun to sparkle and the smile came around her little mouth thicker and faster, like lady bugs around a full blown rose. I begun to feel to hum with her right off, so when she sot down and looked into my face with them sarcy mischievous eyes of her'n, and hitched up to the square cushion sort of inviting, I jest divided my coat tail with both hands and sot down tu. But when I got down I'll be darned if I knew what on arth to talk about; I stretched one of my new boots out on the carpet, and then crossed t'other over it and then I did it all over agin, but still I kept growing more and more streaked, till by-am-by I jest sidled towards her kind of insinivating, and sez I—
"Wal, Miss Elssler, what's the news?"
"E—a de what," sez she, a looking puzzled half to death.
"Oh nothing partic'lar," sez I. "I swow, Miss Elssler, you've got a tarnal purty foot—git out you critter you!" and with that I gave my yaller hankercher a flirt and upset a fly that had lit on the tip eend of her finefied silk shoe. Arter I'd finished his bisness, I folded up my hankercher and wiped my nose, and then put it in my pocket agin. Then I begun to think it was best to take a new start, and sez I—
"Its rather pleasant weather for the season, don't you think so—beautiful day yesterday, wasn't it?"
She gave me one of her sweet smiles, and sez she—
"Yes it was, indeed. I was on board one French vessel in the harbor yesterday, and was so delighted."
"What sort of a consarn was it?" sez I, "a sloop mebby"—
"Oh no," sez she, "it was a La Belle Poule."
"Oh," sez I, "they don't call them sloops in France, I s'pose; but I say, Miss Elssler, have you ever been aboard a regular Yankee craft, say a Connecticut river sloop or a two mast schooner from down East? them's the ginuine sea birds for you! Now my Par's got one a lying down to Peck Slip that'll take the shine off from any of your Bell pulls or Bell ropes either, I'll bet a cookey. I should raly like to show you the critter, I'm sartin Captin Doolittle would go off the handle, he'd be so tickled. Supposing you and I go down some day and git a peep at her, and take a glass of cider and a cold bite in the cabin. Now what do you say?"
"Oh, I shall be very happy;" sez she, yet I thought she looked kinder puzzled, and so to make her feel easy about it sez I—
"Don't be oneasy about the trouble, it won't be no put out to Captin Doolittle, he's al'rs on hand for a spree. Supposing we set day after to-morrow, it's best to give the old chap time to slick up a leetle," sez I.
"Any time that pleases Mr. Sleeke," sez she, a bowing her head.
I wish to gracious Par, you could hear how the critter talks. She nips off some words and strings out others, like a baby jest larning. The way she draws out Mr. Slick is funny enough, you'd think she'd been greasing her tongue to do it fust rate.
Wal, arter we'd settled about the sloop, there come another dead calm and I begun to feel awk'ard agin, so I got up and went to a table that was a'most kivered over with tumblers and chiny cups, stuffed full of posies, and taking one of 'em up, I stuck my nose into the middle on it and giv a good snuff. By the time I got through, Miss Elssler she cum and stood close by me, alooking so tempting that I bust rite out and sez I—
"I swan, Miss Elssler, its eenamost as sweet as your face."
She looked at me again, sort of wild, as if she wasn't used to have folks praise her, so I choked in, and sez I—
"Are you fond of posies?"
She chewed up some soft words that I couldn't make out, and then sez I agin—
"You've got a swad of 'em here, any how. Some of your beaus sent them to you, now, I'll bet something."
"Oh," sez she, a larfing, "dey were all flung on de stage last night, de new York gentlemen dey are so gallant."
I said nothing but kept a darned of a thinking. There wasn't a ginuine prime posey among 'em, nothing but leetle finefied roses, and buds and leaves, and white posies tied up in bunches, jest sich leetle things as a feller might give to a young critter of a gal that he took a notion tu, but no more fit for sich a smasher as Miss Elssler than a missionary psalm book. She begun to untie one of the bunches, and stuck a few into her bosom, and then she twisted the ribbon round a harnsome red rose and a heap of green leaves, and puckering up that sweet mouth of her'n, she gin it to me with a half curchy. Gaury! didn't my heart flounder, and didn't the fire flash up into my eyes. I pinned the rose into my shirt bosom with my new broach, and then I looked at the posies that lay on her bosom so tantalizing, and sez I—
"Oh dear! how I wish I was a honey bee—I guess I know what bunch of posies I'd settle in."
She didn't seem to know how to take this, and I was eenamost scared into a caniption fit to think what I'd been a saying. Think sez I, now Jonathan, if you hain't done it! I ruther guess you'd better cut dirt, and not try agin; so I took out my watch, and sez I—
"Goodness gracious! its time for me to be a going. Don't forgit, our bargin is clinched about the sloop, will you now, Miss Elssler?"
With that I edged towards the door, and arter making another prime bow, I went out, feeling sort of all-overish, I can't tell how. I kinder think she wasn't very wrothy arter all, for she curchied and smiled so, I guess there wasn't much harm done.
The minit I got to my room I was all in a twitter to find out what was on the paper Miss Elssler had sent to me, for I hadn't found out yet. Every word that I could make out was, Madame ma Selle Elssler, and something that looked like compliments spelt wrong: you can't think how I was puzzled. I turned the paper upside down, and up, and every which way, but if the rest wasn't writ in some sort of hog Latin, I hadn't no idee what it was, for I couldn't make out another word, so at last I chucked the paper onto the mantel-shelf, for I wouldn't hold in no longer, and sez I, all alone to myself, as wrathy as could be, sez I,