notoriety. A palace in a grand street, a scarlet-lined coach, and a liveried footman, had turned the Squabbs into gods. Nectar and ambrosia they drank and ate-the nectar of congratulation, and the ambrosia of servile homage from their less fortunate acquaintance. The statue of Hercules on the mantelpiece struck the second hour after midnight, and just at the very moment when poor Mrs. Tipptoff dropped asleep in her lonely parlor, Mr. Squabb jerked out a large jewelled Tobias, and began dreamily in specting the face. At the same instant Mrs. S. pulled out a very thin Lepine from her girdle; Miss Emeline Ginevra produced a still thinner one from hers; the two Squabbling youths each betrayed another; and the circle of fat faces, from gazing at each other, were turned complacently and yawningly upon their watches. "There is nigh upon a thousand dollars' worth of watches among us, my dear," remarked Mr. S. gravely, putting up his time-keeper; "and for me, though I say nothing, I think it a heavy investment in that kind of property." "Was not money, papa, made for spending?" murmured Emeline Ginevra, as she slid her tiny Lepine into its nest near her heart. "Judiciously, my daughter," added the mother. "Judiciously," nodded the father; and "Judiciously" winked the fat eyes of the over-dressed Squabblings. There was a perfect unanimity of sentiment on this point also, and another happy silence followed, during which the author will silently withdraw the reader and introduce him abruptly to a third and more imposing faction or party in this drama of society. CHAPTER III. MRS. WASHINGTON TIBBS. lumen ademptum, that is to say, with knob broken off. Speaking with her customary decision, "Lisette," said the lady,—the maid was instantly at her elbow, and stood in the attitude of fearful attention,-"Lisette, bring me my miniature." The miniature was brought. "Lisette, observe it closely." It was closely observed. "Would you take it for a portrait of me? I was but twenty when that was taken. The artist was one of the few who never flatter. He told me that he esteemed a good conscience above money and fame." "Beautifool," exclaimed Lisette-" delicieuse, and as like Madame as I am like moimême, mesel. I see ver leetle change in your ladyship, mon Dieu !" "Lisette, you must not call me ladyship. Titles are not used in America. A lady is indeed a lady everywhere," sighed Mrs. Tibbs; "but the odious prejudices of the mob! how I hate the mob! Lisette, do have vulgar people in your country?" you "Oui, Madame, many English live in Swisserland: they dress badly, très vul gaire." "And yet, Lisette, England is a very aristocratical country." ver "Ah! oui, très bien! Madame. reech; but the English have not elegance et liberalité égal to some in Amerique. Amerigans ladies très fine, delicates. Amerigan gentilhommes dress more bettre, more fine. Ah! dere is in Broadway one air de Paris, only ver dirty, vill I say nastie?" "Nasty is the word, Lisette. Have you pigs in Swisserland, Lisette?" "Oui, Madame. Mon Dieu! here is grease pot enorme on votre ladyship's brocade dress, blanche. Ah, mon Dieu, it is dreadful." So saying, the assiduous Lisette, who, during this dialogue, had glided into the closet and brought out the garment in question, held up before the eyes of her purblind mistress a portion of the sleeve. what In her boudoir, attended by her natty "Take it, Lisette, I shall have no further Swiss waiting-maid, who was divesting her use for it. And now tell me something portly mistress of a gorgeous satin ball-more, some anecdote of the lady you served dress, sat Mrs. Tibbs, the wealthy widow of in Swisserland, the Landgravine Washington Tibbs, Esq., of metropolitan was her name?" notoriety. Mrs. Tibbs, sitting before her mirror, had laid aside her curls, and eke her wig, and discovered a smooth cranium of a very blue color, rising in the middle over the forehead, like the pyramidal cover of a china sugar bowl, a sugar bowl cui "The Landgravine Schnotsendauben, Madame." "What a name, Lisette! A great lady, you said.” "Oui, une grande dame, très belle, an reech, ver reech." Meredith Demaistre, Mrs. Tibbs glanced at the mirror, sighed and bridled. "Lisette, bring my night-dress. Had the lady many admirers?" "Amants, dit Madame? Pour une Landgravine, tees not permis. Chevalier servante de mon maîtress, Signor Bug, gentilhomme Roman, vid vot you tell, ooisker, très grand moustace on hees cheek." "His lip, Lisette; the mustacio is worn upon the lip. You have seen Mr. Demaistre's." "Eh bien! and feel him too," said the girl quickly; but her mistress did not understand, or did not hear, for she added: "Mr. Demaistre's mustacio is elegant. But tell me, Lisette, what is the duty of a chevalier servante? I thought the entercaining of that kind of follower a very antiquated custom." 66 Antiquated, dit Madame? Non, très modern, au contraire. Il porte-he carry de fan—he carry de dog-he carry eberyding. Monsieur Bug carry Madame too, an I detect; Monsieur Bug call me kammerkat-I turn away ma maîtress, an come to Amerique." "A very improper person, Lisette, to be seen with a lady." 66 "Vraiment, to be seen; Monsieur Bug vas proper, néanmois-an for me I say noting, but he give insult-not like Monsieur Demaistre, who is polaite." The lady's curiosity to learn something farther touching the important relationship of a fashionable gentleman follower to a lady of rank in Europe, had well nigh overcome her discretion, when the arrival of an elegant billet-doux, directed in the handwriting of her favorite, Demaistre, gave a new turn to her thoughts. The note was as follows: MY DEAR MADAM, The arrival at your house of your niece, Miss Winter, during my tedious absence, gives me an opportunity of showing my devotion to yourself by giving her some amusement. I have a little absurd pique to gratify against that young lady, and I wish to give you both a pleasant surprise. Let me have a carte blanche to give what private orders I please, to your housekeeper, for to-morrow evening. And believe me ever, Your devoted and loving P. 8. The trifle inclosed is a table-diamond, a Feb. The amiable ease of the note, and the tained, excited a powerful emotion of pleasure splendor of the jewelled ring which it conshe called for her beautiful miniature writing in the bosom of the widow, and immediately desk, itself a gift from the same tasteful admirer, and before retiring to her couch, indited, in a bold, masculine hand, the following reply: MON CHER DEMAISTRE, while, is at your service. Make any arrangements Yours very truly, PATTY ALICE DENTZY WASHINGTON TIBBS. to wear it. It is a vanity, though an elegant one. P. S. The diamond is very fine. Do not ask me I shall send for Hum and Strum, the two German pianists, and for Chokey and Spondee, the new these artists have! poets, so much talked of. What odd names CHAPTER IV. THE BOARDING-HOUSE. House, a well-known private hotel, or public MRS. KOLLTATER, the lady of the Snob the head of her long table, looking down boarding-house in Broadway, sat at dinner, at along her ranks of eaters, with a calculating expression. By close observation and long experience in her business, this dispenser of family" had acquired a knack at valuing "all the comforts and privileges of a private By the general air and manner of a stranger, men and women by certain external signs. she could foretell, with tolerable accuracy, not only how much he would eat, but how ate. Her favorable regards were distributed long he would be likely to pay for what he upon those who ate little and paid punctually. observer might have detected a remarkable On the present occasion, however, a quiet departure, in Mrs. Kolltater, from her usual course of favor; for in the seedy coat and ca-lamitous countenance of Mr. Bob Jenkins,Jenkins the toper-Jenkins the penny-aliner, what was there to call out a smile on the face of an experienced landlady? Jenkins was, in fact, surprised at it himself; it even excited in his bosom a vague feeling of alarm. Returning the unexpected smile with a grim recognition, he laid down his knife and fork, and considered in his dear heart, as Homer would say, what might be the cause; and whether bitter Fate had anything in store for him, more dreadful than what he had already suffered. To the gentleman at his elbow, however, who had observed the landlady's demonstration, it seemed quite proper, and a thing to be expected. This was no less a character than the well and widely known Meredith Demaistre, equally noted for the elegance of his hair and the audacity of his manners. Every assembly of men, be it an assembly only for eating, has its great man, or sovereign pro tem. Mr. Meredith Damaistre, already somewhat known to the reader, was the sovereign pro tem. of Mrs. Kolltater's dinner table. Now this autocrat of sirloins had signified to the landlady that it would gratify him to have Jenkins at his elbow, at table; where, accordingly, said Jenkins was seated; and very rightly and naturally our dinner autocrat attributed the above described dispensation to a reflection of his own importance from the person of Jenkins in the eyes of the landlady. The diners had retired from the table, excepting Jenkins and his fashionable friend. Ordering sherry for his own glass, and brandy for his companion's, Demaistre threw himself into an attitude of intimate conversation, leaning over, and occasionally striking the table with his right hand. "You were speaking," said his companion, pouring out a liberal draught from the decanter, "of that affair at the Tipptoffs." "Ah!" exclaimed Demaistre, in his usual low, flute-like tone," a more elegant affair than that. But the devil is in those Tipptoffs; with all their advantages and pride to boot; with the best manners, nd a capital art of entertainment. In fact they work for others. Observe now-a man of some sense, known in very good company, and supposed to be rich, becomes an object of maternal anxiety in the bosoms of a dozen or twenty highly respectable families-in fact, to be plain, the idol of a good set. Very good. Now you, Jenkins, happen to know, that I, the rich Meredith Demaistre, (ha! ha!) am precisely the individual indicated. It were idle to a.tempt modesty with a man of your penetration; but there is one thing which I will throw in, by way of warning:-My riches, you know, are purely in expectation. I am a near relative, the only surviving relative of the old pill-vender Bobus. Very good. I am rich, as we say, in expectation. That is to say, I intend to marry a great deal of real and personal property, now in the possession of the venerable widow Washington Tibbs. As for uncle Bobus, he will never leave me a penny. The old fellow intends endowing a hospital by way of indemnification to mankind, for having slain so many with his wicked nostrum. The idea of leaving me a fortune never occurred to him. But I grow tedious." "Not at all," gasped Jenkins, with a look of infinite curiosity, and decanting a second glass of brandy. "Not at all; go on, in the d-l's name." "That," replied the other quickly, "is precisely the name in which I intend to go on. Now for this affair at the Tipptoffs. You must know the widow Washington Wiggs or Tibbs is decidedly taken with my person. The widow does not dance, but she talks wonderfully, and so does your humble servant. By talking I carried the widow-took her by storm. It was at this exquisite supper-party at Tipptoff's--the most elegant thing! There was a room frescoed for the occasion; the most perfect taste in the outlay! Your humble servant planned the thing, and brought Mrs. Tipptoff into it. The widow Washington was made to think that the whole had been got up to please her. The Squabbs labored under a similar delusion in regard to themselves. Only your humble servant knew the object of this piece of folly, which cost Tipptoff and his wife some five thousand dollars, including the making up of specie into plate; there was the vastest profusion-costly wines, pictures, opera-singing, the house thrown open, filled with every luxury and everything to please. In short, a most elegant affair, and not above a hundred persons present! The most select; in short, not one married person under a hundred thousand, and full ten over half a million, supposed. Squabb thought it a good time, where capital was so well represented, to organize a bank; and I verily believe the dozen or so of red-faced plums that were present, would have called a meeting and fallen to business, had not their circle been broken in upon by a vigorous assault from Mrs. Washington Wiggs-confound it, I mean Tibbs, who led off Squabb to stare at a piece of ancient china, which he mistook for a petrified monkey. "I have said that both the Squabbs and the widow fancied the occasion their own. The widow, who is fat, and walks heavily, withdrew into a recess, and entertained a circle of her admirers with a lecture on phrenology and the Greek Slave. Your humble servant was called upon for a touch of the aesthetic, and taste being the order of the day, I gave the widow a definition of taste, which threw her into a perspiration of delight. Taste,' said I, my dear madam, is a thing'-'Wrong, Demaistre,' said she. (She admires my surname it is important to have a good name, and when one may be picked out of any directory, I see no reason why a gentleman seeking his fortune should not choose the best. My old name, you know, was Sneak, Judas Sneak,a horrible name; I changed it. It went before me like a bad reputation, and I never prospered while I had it.) But I digress. 'Wrong,' said she, 'Demaistre, wrong! Taste is a sentiment, not a thing.' 'True, madam,' said I, bowing under the correction; taste is, indeed, more a person than a thing.' 'Wrong again, Demaistre,' said she, still harping on my name; taste is not a person, neither.' 'Ah! madam,' said I, sighing, and giving her a delicate glance, taste is surely a person, and no less a person than Mrs. Washington Tibbs; she is taste itself."" "Very gross," remarked Jenkins. "Which, the lady or the compliment ?" "That," responded Jenkins, "depends on her way of taking it." "She took it as a cat laps milk; as a man of no credit takes a good endorsement. The widow is a lady of great humility and the most aspiring pride. Her reverence for a great or learned name is equalled only by her personal haughtiness and ambition. Now, she looks upon your humble servant as not only a man of family, rich in hope, and an aristocrat, but as a person of unlimited acquirements, and perfect discrimination. In short, the widow is a sure card. But I must marry soon, or some vile accident will mar all." Jenkins finished a third glass of brandy and water, and a desultory chat of some minutes ensued, during which our adventurer amused himself with shuffling over a heap of invitations which he drew from his pocketbook. As he read the names half soliloquizing, his companion kept up a running commentary, for Jenkins was a man who had seen better days, and had been a diner out, knew everybody's business and reputation in the city. "Jacks?" said Demaistre, half questioning the name from a card. "Jacks? A stock-broker," said the other, half answering, half soliloquizing. "Jacob Jacks, grandson of the old apple woman on St. P-'s. A drug dealer, very rich; has failed six times, here and elsewhere, by this light; a very low dog; his large family, all girls, inherit the scrofula and rheumatism, contracted by the old woman from cold victuals and damp seats, to say nothing of a filthier inheritance of vulgarity and pride." "Cottle?" (another card.) "Aye, aye, Dick Cottle, corner of Broadway and Jaundice street, formerly; now De Damm Place-nothing less. His house is a solid mass of absurdity, a blunder immortalized in brick. It cost him a hundred thousand, they say. A mere selfish jug, that fellow; his ears are narrow slits through which you may drop in brass coin of flattery enough, but deuce a compliment will you ever get out of him, until his clay envelope is cracked, and then there will be a soul found dried and shrunk, like the kernel of a bad nut. This Dick Cottle invited me to dine with him once, in a quiet way, and when all was done, there was only a turkey without sauce, cold potatoes and cheap port. A miserable dog, worth half a million, and a very bad judge of port. Avoid him.” "Partridge ?" (another card.) "That's fat Peter, I know him well. Very good eater, but fond of soup; the veriest cheat in creation. Peter is one of those happy, good-humored rascals who go smiling through the world, with the best intentions, though frequently unable to repay a loan, or meet an obligation; and yet by some secret arrangement with Providence, perpetually rolling in luxury,wine, women, horses, dinners,while honest dogs, like me, who must look sheepish when they can't pay, live unappreciated. By Heaven, I'll have a new scheme of the moral sentiments, with the part of Hamlet-I mean conscience-omitted." "Gudginson?" (another card.) "That's Jonas Gudginson; once a fish your welfare, and meant only to give a friend a little kind advice." "Very well, let that go," said Jenkins, "Now for the Tipptoffs: what of sullenly. erman, then a banker; and the banks from which he drew his profits were, first and last, sand banks. His business now is, to 'own a few houses,' for which, he affectedly says, 'he gets nothing but his board and lodging, and travelling expenses.' I "To proceed, then, you must know that never set eyes on the fishy face of that this affair at Tipptoff's was got up altosame Gudginson (his real name was origin-gether at my suggestion. The T.'s, you ally Gudgins) without marvelling at the dispensations of Providence, which confer poverty and scorn upon wits and men of sense, and fortune and pride upon idiots. Madam G., a dressed-up fishmonger's wife, is Snobbery's goddess-extremely dressy, spends, it is said, a thousand a year in adorning her fishy person. But it won't do; all the rose-water in Snobdom won't wash off the smell of mackerel." "Come, come, Jenkins," said Demaistre, coloring, and speaking in a very serious tone, "you grow severe. The institutions of this country, you know, favor all men equally." "I deny it, sir," responded Jenkins, breathing a fierce and melancholy sigh; "they favor only the low-born and the dull." "But what," said the other, "have you and I to say against that?" "Pardon me, Mr. Demaistre; I trace my origin to one of the early settlers of NewJersey, a man, sir, whose genealogy runs back into the days of William the Conqueror. My ancestors fought against the Henrys and Edwards, in the wars of Wales." "And mine, for aught I know, fought against Leviathan in the wars of whales. What folly is this? My grandfather, the veritable Jedediah Sneak, of Sneakville, Connecticut, sold rum, and molasses, and notions, to country louts; but for all that, I am Meredith Demaistre, Esq., and shall marry a fortune. My dear Jenkins, there is a fault in your organization: you lack assurance. Assurance is better than pride. It is an easy, flexible virtue-shall I say that fits itself to every situation and condition. But this oldfashioned lumber of family pride that you carry about with you, is a barren property, held by a doubtful record, that requires constant vigilance, and is subject to a heavy tax of time and idleness." "Ah! ha!" replied the other, with a sneer, "I perceive, that together with his aristocratical name, our friend Judas Sneak, Esq., adopted a high moral tone!" "No; under favor," said the other, "you mistake me. I have a strong interest in know, are on the down-hill side of fashion--a "Did you say that?" growled Jenkins; "you, who passed the first eighteen years of your life"Hush! let me go on. 'One should have been early trained,' says I. 'Taste is a thing given more by society and culture than by nature. Your husband has fine aristocratical elements of character; nor can the man whom you have condescended to marry be supposed-' 'Out, villain! you flatter,' says she, with a prettily affected indignation. Never, madam,' replied I. A fool it may be sometimes necessary to flatter; but with people of taste and discernment nothing passes but rude sincerity. Ah! Demaistre,' sighed she, looking soft and disconsolate, what shall we do? Advise us.' In the last number of the "Mirror of Manners," replied I, 'you may have seen an essay, an indifferent performance of mine?' Yes; a description of an entertainment at Lady Bauble's, in London. Oh! it was charming! Dear Demaistre, you have taste, and such a naïve style! You will ruin us. Why, do you know, I no sooner read that description of yours but it came into my head to do just such a thing. But then it would be so expensive.' |