Off Hand Sketches, a Little Dashed with Humour

T >> T.S. Arthur >> Off Hand Sketches, a Little Dashed with Humour

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"I can't take them at the price called for in this bill," said
Eldon, assuming a positive air, and thinking, by doing so, Lladd
would deem it his better policy to let the goods go at ten dollars.

"Then you can send them home," replied the merchant, in a manner
that offended Eldon.

"Very well, I will do so, and you may keep your goods," he retorted,
betraying, as he spoke, a good deal of warmth.

And the goods were sent back, both parties feeling offended; Lladd
at the glaring attempt made to overreach him, and Eldon because the
other would not submit to be overreached.

On the day following, Eldon started out in search of another lot of
the goods he wanted, and thought himself fortunate in meeting with
some in the hands of a dealer named Miller, but demurred when twelve
dollars and a half a piece were asked for them.

"I can't take less," was replied.

"But," said Eldon, "Lladd has the same article for ten and a half."

"You don't pretend to put his goods alongside of mine?" returned
Miller.

Eldon examined them more closely.

"They are better, it is true. But the difference is not so great as
the price."

"Look again."

Another close examination was made.

"They are finer and thicker certainly. But you ask too much for
them."

"It's my lowest price. They will bring it in the market, which is
now bare."

"Won't you let me have a dozen pieces at twelve dollars?" asked
Eldon.

"Can't sell a piece for less than what I said."

Eldon hung on for some time, but finally ordered a dozen pieces to
be sent home, and paid the bill, though with a bad grace. Still, he
was so angry with Lladd because he had shown a proper resentment at
the effort made to overreach him, that he determined to buy no more
of his goods if he could supply himself at a higher price. Thus
matters went on for five or six months, Eldon supplying himself at
the store of Miller, and reconciling himself to the serious advance
in price, with the reflection that Lladd's goods were remaining dead
on his hands.

At last, Miller's supply was exhausted. Eldon called, one day, and
ordered a dozen pieces, and received for answer--

"Not a piece in the store."

"What? All gone?" said Eldon.

"Yes, you got the last some days ago."

"I'm sorry for that. Lladd has a good stock on hand, but I don't
care about dealing with him, if I can help it. He's a crusty sort of
a fellow. Has no other house a supply?"

"Not to my knowledge. There is only a limited demand for the
article, you know, and but few importers care about ordering it, for
the reason that it goes off slowly."

Eldon tried several places, but couldn't find a yard. By the next
day, his workmen would be idle; and so he had no alternative but to
call upon Lladd. The merchant received him pleasantly; and they
chatted for a while on matters and things in general. At last Eldon,
though it went against the grain, said--

"I want you to send me twenty pieces of those goods around, with the
bill."

The merchant smiled blandly and replied--

"Sorry I can't accommodate you. But I haven't a yard in the store."

"What?" Lladd looked blank.

"No. I have sold off the entire lot, and concluded not to import any
more of that class of goods."

"Ah? I supposed they were still on hand."

"No, I placed them in the hands of Miller, and he has worked them
all off for me at a considerable advance on former prices. He
notified me, a week ago, that the lot was closed out, and rendered
account sales at twelve and a half per piece."

Lladd said all this seemingly unconscious that every word he was
uttering fell like a blow upon his old customer. But he understood
it all very well, and had caught the hard bargain maker in a trap he
little dreamed had been laid for his feet.

Eldon stammered out some half coherent responses, and took his
departure with more evidences of his discomfiture in his face and
manner than he wished to appear. He had, in fact, been paying twelve
dollars and a half for the very goods he had sent back because he
couldn't get them for ten dollars, at six months credit.

Eldon did not understand how completely he had overreached himself,
until a part of his establishment had been idle for days, and he had
been compelled to go to New York, and purchase some fifty pieces of
the goods he wanted, for cash, at twelve dollars per piece, a price
that he is still compelled to pay, as neither Lladd nor any other
importing house in the city has since ordered a case from abroad. So
much for driving a hard bargain.

OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN INTO THE FIRE;

OR, THE LOVE OF A HOUSE.

"HADN'T you better give your landlord notice to-day, that we will
move at the end of the year, Mr. Plunket?"

"Move! For heaven's sake, Sarah, what do we want to move for?"

"Mr. Plunket!"

"Mrs. Plunket!"

"It's a very strange way for you to address me, Mr. Plunket. A very
strange way!"

"But for what on earth do you want to move, Sarah? Tell me that. I'm
sure we are comfortable enough off here."

"Here! I wouldn't live in this miserable house another twelve
months, if you gave me the rent free."

"I don't see any thing so terribly bad about the house. I am well
satisfied."

"Are you, indeed! But I am not, I can tell you for your comfort."

"What's the matter with the house?"

"Every thing. There isn't a comfortable or decent room in it, from
the garret to the cellar. Not one. It's, a horrid place to live in;
and such a neighbourhood to bring up children in!"

"You thought it a 'love of a house' a year ago."

"Me! Mr. Plunket, I never liked it; and it was all your fault that
we ever took the miserable affair."

"My fault! Bless me, Sarah, what are you talking about? I didn't
want to move from where we were. _I never want to move_."

"Oh, no, you'd live in a pigstye for ever, if you once got there,
rather than take the trouble to get out of it."

"Mrs. Plunket!"

"Mr. Plunket!"

Wise from experience, the gentleman deemed it better to run than
fight. So, muttering to himself, he took up his hat and beat a hasty
retreat.

Mrs. Plunket had a mother, a fact of which Mr. Plunket was perfectly
aware, particularly as said relative was a member of his family. She
happened to be present when the above spicy conversation took place.
As soon as he had retired, she broke out with--"Humph! just like
him; any thing to be contrary. But I wouldn't live in this old
rattle-trap of a place another year for any man that ever stepped
into shoe-leather. No, indeed, not I. Out of repair from top to
bottom; not a single convenience, so to speak; walls cracked, paper
soiled, and paint yellow as a pumpkin."

"And worse than all, ma, every closet is infested with ants and
overrun with mice. Ugh! I'm afraid to open a cupboard, or look into
a drawer. Why, yesterday, a mouse jumped upon me and came near going
into my bosom. I almost fainted. Oh, dear! I never can live in this
house another year; it is out of the question. I should die."

"No one thinks of it, except Mr. Plunket, and he's always opposed to
every thing; but that's no matter. If he don't notify the landlord,
we can. Live here another twelvemonth! No, indeed!"

"I saw a bill on a house in Seventh street yesterday, and I had a
great mind, then, to stop and look at it. It was a beautiful place,
just what we want."

"Put your things on, Sarah, right away, and go and see about it.
Depend upon it, we can't do worse than this."

"Worse! No, indeed, that's impossible. But Mr. Plunket!"

"Pshaw! never mind him; he's opposed to every thing. If you had
given him his way, where would you have been now?"

Mrs. Plunket did not reply to this, for the question brought back
the recollection of a beautiful little house, new, and perfect in
every part, from which she had forced her husband to move, because
the parlours were not quite large enough. Never, before nor since,
had they been so comfortably situated.

Acting as well from her own inclination as from her mother's advice,
Mrs. Plunket went and made an examination of the house upon which
she had seen the bill.

"Oh, it is such a love of a house!" she said, upon her return.
"Perfect in every respect: it is larger than this, and is full of
closets; and the rent is just the same."

"Did you get the refusal of it?"

"Yes. I told the landlord that I would give him an answer by
to-morrow morning. He says there are a great many people after it;
that he could have rented it a dozen times, if he had approved the
tenants who offered. He says he knows Mr. Plunket very well, and
will be happy to rent him the house."

"We must take it, by all means."

"That is, if Mr. Plunket is willing."

"Willing! Of course, he'll have to be willing."

"Oh, it is such a love of a house, ma!"

"I'm sure it must be."

"A very different kind of an affair from this, you may be certain."

When Mr. Plunket came home that evening, his wife said to him, quite
amiably--"Oh, you don't know what, a love of a house I saw to-day up
in Seventh street; larger, better, and more convenient than this in
every way, and the rent is just the same."

"But I am sure, Sarah, we are very comfortable here."

"Comfortable! Good gracious, Mr. Plunket, I should like to know what
you call comfort. How can any one be comfortable in such a miserable
old rattletrap of a place as this?"

"You thought it a love of a house, you remember, before we came into
it."

"Me? Me? Mr. Plunket? Why, I never liked it; and it was all your
fault that we ever moved here."

"My fault?"

"Yes, indeed, it was all your fault. I wanted the house in Walnut
street, but you were afraid of a little more rent. Oh, no, Mr.
Plunket, you mustn't blame me for moving into this barracks of a
place; you have only yourself to thank for that; and now I want to
get out of it on the first good opportunity."

Poor Mr. Plunket was silenced. The very boldness of the position
taken by his wife completely knocked him _hors du combat_. His
fault, indeed! He would have lived on, year after year, in a log
cabin, rather than encounter the horrors of moving; and yet he was
in the habit of moving about once a year. What could he do now? He
had yielded so long to his wife, who had grown bolder at each
concession, that opposition was now hopeless. Had she stood alone,
there might have been some chance for him; but backed up, as she
was, by her puissant mother, victory was sure to perch on her
banner; and well did Mr. Plunket know this.

"It will cost at least a hundred and fifty or two hundred dollars to
move," he ventured to suggest.

"Indeed, and it will cost no such thing. I'll guaranty the whole
removal for ten dollars."

"It cost over a hundred last year."

"Nonsense! it didn't cost a fifth of it."

But Mr. Plunket knew he had the best right to know, for he had paid
the bills.

From the first, Mr. Plunket felt that opposition was useless. A
natural repugnance to change and a horror of the disorder and
discomfort of moving caused him to make a feeble resistance; but the
opposing current swept strongly against him, and he had to yield.

The house in Seventh street was taken, and, in due time, the
breaking up and change came. Carpets were lifted, boxes, barrels,
and trunks packed, and all the disorderly elements of a regular
moving operation called into activity. Every preparation had been
made on the day previous to the contemplated flight; the cars were
to be at the door by eight o'clock on the next morning. In
anticipation of this early movement, the children had been dragged
out of bed an hour before their usual time for rising. They were, in
consequence, cross and unreasonable; but not more so than mother,
grandmother, and nurse, all of whom either boxed them, scolded them,
or jerked them about in a most violent manner. Breakfast was served
early; but such a breakfast! the least said about that the better.
It was well there were no keen appetites to turn away with
disappointment.

"Strange that the cars are not here!" said Mr. Plunket, who had put
himself in going order. "It's nearly half an hour past the time now.
Oh, dear! confound all this moving, say I."

"That's a strange way for you to talk before children, Mr. Plunket,"
retorted his wife.

"And this is a much stranger way for you to act, madam; for ever
dragging your husband and children about from post to pillar. For my
part, I feel like Noah's dove, without a place to rest the sole of
my foot."

"Mr. Plunket!"

"Mrs. Plunket!"

A war of words was about commencing, but the furniture-cars drove up
at the moment, when an armistice took place.

In due time, the family of the Plunkets were, bag and baggage, in
their new house. A lover of quiet, the male head of the
establishment tried to refrain from any remarks calculated to excite
his helpmate, but this was next to impossible, there being so much
in the new house that he could not, in conscience, approve. If Mrs.
Plunket would have kept quiet, all might have gone on very smoothly;
but Mrs. Plunket could not or would not keep quiet. She was
extravagant in her praise of every thing, and incessant in her
comparisons between the old and the new house. Mr. Plunket listened,
and bit his lip to keep silent. At last the lady said to him, with a
coaxing smile, for she was not going to rest until some words of
approval were extorted from her liege lord--"Now, Mr. Plunket, don't
you think this a love of a house?"

"No!" was the gruff answer.

"Mr. Plunket! Why, what is your objection? I'm sure we can't be more
uncomfortable than we have been for a year."

"Oh, yes, we can."

"How so?"

"There is such a thing as going from the frying-pan into the fire."

"Mr. Plunket!"

"Just what you'll find we have done, madam."

"How will you make that appear, pray?"

"In a few words. Just step this way. Do you see that building?"

"I do."

"Just to the south-west of us; from that quarter the cool breezes of
summer come. We shall now have them fragrant with the delightful
exhalations of a slaughter-house. Humph! Won't that be delightful?
Then, again, the house is damp."

"Oh, no. The landlord assured me it was as dry as a bone."

"The landlord lied, then. I've been from garret to cellar half a
dozen times, and it is just as I say. My eyes never deceive me. As
to its being a better or more comfortable house, that is all in my
eye. I wouldn't give as much for it, by fifty dollars, as for the
one we have left."

Notwithstanding Mrs. Plunket's efforts to induce her husband to
praise the house, she was not as well satisfied with it as she was
at the first inspection of the premises.

"I'm sure," she replied, in rather a subdued manner, "that it is
quite as good as the old house, and has many advantages over it."

"Name one," said her husband.

"It is not overrun with vermin."

"Wait a while and see."

"Oh, I know it isn't."

"How do you know?"

"I asked the landlord particularly."

"And he said no?"

"He did."

"Humph! We shall see."

And they did see. Tired but with a day's moving and fixing, the
whole family, feeling hungry, out of humour, and uncomfortable,
descended to the kitchen, after it had become dark, to overhaul the
provision-baskets, and get a cold cut of some kind. But, alas! to
their dismay, it was found that another family, and that a numerous
one, already had possession. Floor, dresser, and walls were alive
with a starving colony of enormous cockroaches, and the baskets,
into which bread, meats, &c. had been packed, were literally
swarming with them.

In horror, man, woman, and child beat a hasty retreat, and left the
premises.

It would hardly be fair to record all the sayings and doings of that
eventful evening. Overwearied in body and mind, the family retired
to rest, but some of them, alas! not to sleep. From washboards and
every other part of the chamber in which a crevice existed, crept
out certain little animals not always to be mentioned to ears
polite, and, more bold than the denizens of the kitchen, made
immediate demonstrations on the persons of master, mistress, child,
and maid.

It took less than a week to prove satisfactorily to Mrs. Plunket,
though she did not admit the fact, that the new house was not to be
compared with the old one in any respect. It had not a single
advantage over the other, while the disadvantages were felt by every
member of the family.

In a few months, however, Mr. Plunket began to feel at home, and to
settle down into contentment, but as he grew better and better
satisfied, his wife grew more and more desirous of change, and is
now, as the year begins to draw to a close, looking about her for
bills on houses, and examining, every day, the "to let" department
of the newspapers with a lively degree of interest. Mr. Plunket
will, probably, resist stoutly when this lady proposes some new
"love of a house," but it will be of no use; he will have to pull up
stakes and try it again. It is his destiny; he has got a moving
wife, and there is no help for him.

MARRYING A COUNT.

"IS any body dead?"

"Yes, somebody dies every second."

"So they say. But I don't mean that. Why are you looking so solemn?"

"I am not aware that I look so very solemn."

"You do, then, as solemn as the grave."

"Then I must be a grave subject." The young man affected to smile.

"You smile like a death's head, Abel. What is the matter?"

Abel Lee took his interrogator by the arm, and drew him aside. When
they were a little apart from the company, he said in a low voice--

"You know that I have taken a fancy to Arabella Jones?"

"Yes, you told me that a month ago."

"She is here to-night."

"So I see."

"And is as cold to me as an icicle."

"For a very plain reason."

"Yes, too plain."

"Whiskers and moustaches are driving all before them. The man is
nothing now; hair is every thing. Glover will carry off the prize
unless you can hit upon some plan to win back the favour of Miss
Arabella. You must come forward with higher attractions than this
rival can bring."

Lee drew his fingers involuntarily over his smooth lip and chin, a
movement which his friend observed and comprehended.

"Before the hair can grow Arabella will be won," he said.

"Do you think I would make such a fool of myself."

"Fool of yourself! What do you mean by that? You say you love
Arabella Jones. If you wish to win her, you must make yourself
attractive in her eyes. To make yourself attractive, you have only
to cultivate whiskers, moustaches, and an imperial, and present a
more luxuriant crop than Glover. The whole matter is very simple,
and comprised in a nut-shell. The only difficulty in the way is the
loss of time consequent upon the raising of this hairy crop. It is
plain, in fact, that you must take a shorter way; you must purchase
what you haven't time to grow. Hide yourself for a week or two, and
then make your appearance with enough hair upon your face to conceal
one-half or two-thirds of your features, and your way to the heart
of Miss Jones is direct."

"I feel too serious on the subject to make it a matter of jesting,"
said Lee, not by any means relishing the levity of his friend.

"But, my dear sir," urged the friend, "what I propose is your only
chance. Glover will have it all his own way, if you do not take some
means to head him off. The matter is plain enough. In the days of
chivalry, a knight would do almost any unreasonable thing--enter
upon almost any mad adventure--to secure the favour of his
lady-love; and will you hesitate when nothing of more importance
than the donning of false whiskers and moustaches is concerned? You
don't deserve to be thought of by Miss Jones."

"Jest away, Marston, if it is so pleasant to you," remarked Lee,
with a slightly offended air.

"No, but my dear fellow, I am in earnest. I really wish to serve
you. Still if the only plan at all likely to succeed is so repugnant
to your feelings, you must let the whole matter go. Depend upon it,
there is no other chance for you with the lady."

"Then she must go. I would not make a fool of myself for the Queen
of Sheba. A man who sacrifices his own self-respect in order to
secure the love of a woman becomes unworthy of her love."

"Well said, Abel Lee! That is the sentiment of a right mind, and
proves to me that Arabella Jones is unworthy of you. Let her go to
the whiskers, and do you try to find some one who has soul enough to
love the man."

The young men separated, to mingle with the company. Marston could
not help noticing Miss Arabella Jones more particularly than before,
and perceived that she was coldly polite to all the young men who
ventured to approach her, but warm and smiling as a June morning to
an individual named Glover who had been abroad and returned home
rich in hairy honours, if in nothing else. The manners of this
Glover distinguished him as much as his appearance.

"To think that a woman could be attracted by a thing like that!" he
said to himself a little pettishly, as he saw the alacrity with
which Arabella seized the offered arm of Glover to accompany him to
the supper table.

Marston was a fellow of a good deal of humour, and relished
practical joking rather more than was consistent with the comfort of
other people. We cannot commend him for this trait of character. But
it was one of his faults, and all men have their failings. It would
have given him great pleasure, could he have induced Abel Lee to set
up a rivalry in the moustache and whisker line; but Abel had too
much good sense for that, and Marston, be it said to his credit, was
rejoiced to find that he had. Still, the idea having once entered
his head, he could not drive it away. He had a most unconquerable
desire to see some one start in opposition to Glover, and was half
tempted to do it himself, for the mere fun of the thing. But this
was rather more trouble than he wished to take.

Not very long after this, a young stranger made his appearance in
fashionable circles, and created quite a flutter among the ladies.
He had, besides larger whiskers, larger moustache, and larger
imperial than Glover, a superb goatee, and a decided foreign accent.
He soon threw the American in the shade, especially as a whisper got
out that he was a French count travelling through the country, who
purposely concealed his title. The object of his visit, it was also
said, was the selection of a wife from among the lovely and
unsophisticated daughters of America. He wished to find some one who
had never breathed the artificial air of the higher circles in his
own country; who would love him for himself alone, and become his
loving companion through life.

How all these important facts in relation to him got wind few paused
to inquire. Young ladies forgot their plain-faced, untitled, vulgar
lovers, and put on their best looks and most winning graces for the
count. For a time he carried all before him. Daily might he be seen
in Chestnut street, gallanting some favoured belle, with the elegant
air of a dancing-master, and the grimace of a monkey. Staid citizens
stopped to look at him, and plain old ladies were half in doubt
whether he were a man or a pongo.

At last the count's more particular attentions were directed toward
Miss Arabella Jones, and from that time the favoured Glover found
that his star had passed its zenith. It was in vain that he curled
his moustache more fiercely, and hid his chin in a goatee fully as
large as the count's; all was of no avail. The ladies generally, and
Miss Arabella in particular, looked coldly upon him.

As for Abel Lee, the bitterness of his disappointment was already
past. The conduct of Arabella had disgusted him, and he therefore
looked calmly on and marked the progress of events.

At length the count, from paying marked attention to Arabella in
company, began to visit her occasionally at her father's house,
little to the satisfaction of Mr. Jones, the father, who had never
worn a whisker in his life, and had a most bitter aversion to
moustaches. This being the case, the course of Arabella's love did
not, it may be supposed, run very smooth, for her father told her
very decidedly that he was not going to have "that monkey-faced
fellow" coming about his house. Shocked at such vulgar language,
Arabella replied--

"Gracious me, father! Don't speak in that way of Mr. De Courci. He's
a French count, travelling in disguise."

"A French monkey! What on earth put that nonsense into your head?"

"Everybody knows it, father. Mr. De Courci tried to conceal his
rank, but his English valet betrayed the secret. He is said to be
connected with one of the oldest families in France, and to have
immense estates near Paris."

"The largest estates he possesses are in Whiskerando, if you ever
heard of that place. A French count! Preposterous!"

"I know it to be true," said Arabella, emphatically.

"How do you know it, Miss Confidence?"

"I know it from the fact that I hinted to him, delicately, my
knowledge of his rank abroad, and he did not deny it. His looks and
his manner betrayed what he was attempting to conceal."

"Arabella!" said Mr. Jones, with a good deal of sternness, "if you
were silly enough to hint to this fellow what you say you did, and
he was impostor enough not to deny it on the spot in the most
unequivocal terms, then he adds the character of a designing villain
to that of a senseless fop. In the name of homely American common
sense, can you not see, as plain as daylight, that he is no nearer
akin to a foreign nobleman than his barber or boot-black may be?"

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