FullReads

“So, alas!” said Mrs. Glenn, “I find the world too–too much inclined to reason; but I shall trust to the mercy and providence of the Lord, if denied the kind feelings of mortals.”

“Ah, yes, yes, that’s it, ma’am; it’s all very fine, ma’am; but too many poor, foolish creatures get themselves in a scrape, then depend upon the Lord to help ’em out. This shifting the responsibility to the shoulders of the Lord isn’t right. I don’t wonder the Lord shuts his ears to half he’s asked to do, ma’am.”

“Well, sir, I thought I would call, though I feared my children would be an objection to–“

“Yes, yes,–I don’t want incumbrances, ma’am.”

“But I–I a–“–the widow’s heart was too full for utterance; she moved towards the door. “Good morning, sir.”

“Stop, come back, ma’am, sit down; it’s a pity–you’ve no business, ma’am, as I said before, to have incumbrances, when you haven’t got any visible means of support. Now, if you only had one, one incumbrance–and that you’d no business to have”–said the old gent, doggedly, tapping an antique tortoise-shell snuff box, and applying “the pungent grains of titillating dust,” as Pope observes, to his proboscis, “if you had only one incumbrance–but you’ve got a house full, ma’am.”

“No, sir, only three!” answered widow Glenn.

“Three, only three? God bless me, ma’am, I wouldn’t be a poor woman with two–no, with one incumbrance at my petticoat tails–for the biggest ship and cargo old Steve Girard ever owned, ma’am.”

“I might,” meekly said the widow, “put my son with the printer, sir; he has offered to take my poor boy.”

“Two girls and a boy?” inquiringly asked the old gent, applying the dust, and manipulating his box. “How old? Eldest thirteen, eh?–boy eleven, and the youngest seven, eh?” and working a traverse, or solving some problematic point, Job Carson stuck his hands under his morning gown, and strode over the floor; after a few evolutions of the kind, he stopped–fumbled in a drawer of a secretary, and placing a ten dollar note in the widow’s hand, he said:

“There, ma’am; I don’t know that I shall want you, but to-morrow morning, if you have time, from other and more important business, call in, bring your children with you; good morning, ma’am–Banquo!”

“Yis, sah; I’se heah.”

“Show the lady out–good morning, ma’am, good morning.”

“I like that woman’s looks,” said old Job, continuing his walk; “she’s plain and tidy; she’s industrious, I’ll warrant; if she only hadn’t that raft of incumbrances; what do these people have incumbrances for, anyway?–“

“Lady at the doo-ah, sah,” said Banquo.

“Show her in. Good morning, ma’am; Banquo, a seat for the lady; yes, ma’am, I did; I want a housekeeper. I advertised for one. How many servants do I keep? Well, ma’am, I keep as many as I want. Have visitors? Of course I have. What and where are my rooms ? Why, madam, I own the house, every brick and lath in it. I go to bed, and get up, and go round; come in and out, when I feel like it. What church do I worship in? I’ve assisted in building a number, own a half of one, and a third of several; but, ma’am, between you and I–I don’t want to be rude to a lady, ma’am, but I do think, this examination ain’t to my liking–you don’t think the place would suit you, eh? Well, I think your ladyship wouldn’t suit me, ma’am, so I’ll bid your ladyship good morning,” said old Job, bowing very obsequiously to the stiff-starched and acrimonious dame, who, returning the old gentleman’s bow with the same “high pressure” order, seized her skirts in one hand, and agitating her fan with the other, she stepped out, or finikined

along to the hall door, and as Banquo flew around, and put on the extras to let her ladyship out, she gave the darkey a pat on the head with her fan, and looking crab-apples at the poor negro, she rushed down the steps and disappeared.