by T. S. Arthur
fair means in this house. So don’t try to make me believe it—for I
won’t. I’m too old a housekeeper for that.”
Finding that I was not to be convinced, Hannah became angry, and
said something about her not being a “thafe.” I was unmoved by this,
however; and told her, with as much sternness of manner as I could
assume, that I should hold her responsible for any future waste of
the article; and that if she did not feel inclined to remain on such
terms, she had better go.
“Dade, thin, and I’ll go to onst,” was the girl’s spirited answer.
“Very well, Hannah. You are your own mistress in this respect,” said
I, coolly. “I’m not in the least troubled about filling your place;
nor fearful of getting one who will waste a gallon of oil in four
days.”
Hannah retired from my presence in high indignation, and I fully
expected that she would desert my house forthwith. But, no; unlike
some others of her class, she knew when she had a good place, and
had sense enough to keep it as long as she could stay.
In due time she cooled off, and I heard no more about her getting
another place.
“There’s that fishy smell again!” exclaimed my husband, as he arose
up in bed one morning, a day or two afterwards, and snuffed the air.
“And, as I live, the fire in the heater is all out again! I’ll have
some light on this subject, see if I don’t.”
And he sprung upon the floor, at the same time hurriedly putting on
his dressing gown and a pair of slippers.
“Where are you going?” said I, seeing him moving towards the door.
“To find out where this fishy smell comes from,” he replied,
disappearing as he spoke.
In about five minutes, Mr. Smith returned.
“Well, if that don’t beat all!” he exclaimed, as he re-entered the
chamber.
“What?” I very naturally enquired.
“I’ve found out all about that fishy smell,” said he.
“What about it? Where does it come from?”
“You wouldn’t guess in a month of Sundays! Well, this is a great
world! Live and learn!”
“Explain yourself, Mr. Smith. I’m all impatience.”
“I will; and in a few words. The fire was out in the heater.”
“Yes.”
“And I very naturally took my way down to where I expected to find
our lady at work in the re-kindling process.”
“Well?”
“Sure enough, there she was, kindling the fire with a vengeance.”
“With what?” I asked. “With a vengeance?”
“Yes, with a vengeance to my pocket. She had the oil can in her
hands, and was pouring its contents freely into the furnace, in
order to quicken combustion. I now understand all about this fishy
smell.”
“And I all about the remarkable disappearance of a gallon of oil in
four days. Kindling the fire with dollar and forty cent oil!”
“Even so!”
“What did you say to her, Mr. Smith?”
“Nothing. But I rather think she’ll not want me to look at her
again, the huzzy!”
“Kindling fire with my best sperm oil! Well, I can’t get over that!”
Something in this wise I continued to ejaculate, now and then, until
my astonishment fairly wore itself out.
I didn’t consider it worth while to say any thing to Hannah when I
went down stairs, thinking it best to let the look my husband spoke
of, do its work. By the way, I don’t much wonder that she was
frightened at his look—for he can—But I forgot—I am speaking of
my husband, and he might happen to read this.
Of course, Hannah’s days in my house were numbered. No faith was to
be placed in a creature who could so shamefully destroy a useful
article placed in her hands. If she would burn up the oil, it was
but fair to infer that she would as remorselessly make way with
other things. So I parted with her. She begged me to let her stay,
and made all sorts of promises. But I was immovable.
Whether I bettered myself in the change, is somewhat doubtful.
CHAPTER IV.
CHEAP FURNITURE.
ONE of the cardinal virtues, at least for housekeepers who are not
overburdened in the matter of income, is economy. In the early part
of our married life, Mr. Smith and myself were forced to the
practice of this virtue, or incur debt, of which both of us had a
natural horror. For a few years we lived in the plain style with
which we had begun the world. But, when our circumstances improved,
we very naturally desired to improve the appearance of things in our
household. Our cane seat chairs and ingrain carpet looked less and
less attractive every day. And, when we went out to spend an
evening, socially, with our friends, the contrast between home and
abroad was strikingly apparent to our minds.
“I think,” said Mr. Smith to me, one day, “that it is time we
re-furnished our parlors.”
“If you can afford the outlay,” I remarked.
“It won’t cost a great deal,” he returned.
“Not over three hundred dollars,” said I.
Mr. Smith shook his head as he answered: “Half that sum ought to be
sufficient. What will we want?”
“A dozen mahogany chairs to begin with,” I replied. “There will be
sixty dollars.”
“You don’t expect to pay five dollars a-piece for chairs?” said my
husband, in a tone of surprise.
“I don’t think you can get good ones for less.”
“Indeed we can. I was looking at a very handsome set yesterday; and
the man only asked four dollars for them. I don’t in the least doubt
that I could get them for three and a half.”
“And a dear bargain you would make of that, I do not in the least
doubt. It is poor economy, Mr. Smith, to buy cheap furniture. It
costs a great deal more in the end, than good furniture, and never
gives you any satisfaction.”
“But these were good chairs, Jane. As good as I would wish to look
at. The man said they were from one of the best shops in the city,
and of superior workmanship and finish.”
As I make it a point never to prolong an argument with my husband,
when I see his mind bent in one direction, I did not urge my view of
the case any farther. It was settled, however, that we could afford
to re-furnish our parlors in a better style, and that in the course
of the coming week, we should go out together and select a Brussels
carpet, a sofa, a dozen mahogany chairs, a centre table, &c.
As I had foreseen from the beginning, my husband’s ideas of economy
were destined to mar everything. At one of the cabinet ware-rooms
was a very neat, well-made set of chairs, for which five dollars and
a half were asked, but which the dealer, seeing that he was beyond
our mark, offered for five dollars. They were cheap at that price.
But Mr. Smith could not see that they were a whit better than the
set of chairs just mentioned as offered for four dollars; and which
he was satisfied could be bought for three and a half. So I went
with him to look at them. They proved
to be showy enough, if that
were any recommendation, but had a common look in my eyes. They were
not to be compared with the set we had just been examining.
“Now, are they not very beautiful, Jane?” said my husband. “To me
they are quite as handsome as those we were asked sixty dollars
for.”
From this I could not but dissent, seeing which, the cunning dealer
came quickly to my husband’s side of the question with various
convincing arguments, among the strongest of which was an abatement
in the price of the chairs—he seeing it to be for his interest to
offer them for three dollars and three-quarters a-piece.
“I’ll give you three and a-half,” said Mr. Smith, promptly.
“Too little, that, sir,” returned the dealer. “I don’t make a cent
on them at three and three-quarters. They are fully equal, in every
respect, to the chairs you were offered at five dollars. I know the
manufacturer, and have had his articles often.”
“Say three and a-half, and it’s a bargain,” was the only reply made
to this by my economical husband.
I was greatly in hopes that the man would decline this offer; but,
was disappointed. He hesitated for some time, and, at last, said:
“Well, I don’t care, take them along; though it is throwing them
away. Such a bargain you will never get again, if you live to be as
old as Mathuselah. But, now, don’t you want something else? I can
sell you cheaper and better articles in the furniture line than you
can get in the city. Small profits and quick sales—I go in for the
nimble sixpence.”
My husband was in the sphere of attraction, and I saw that it would
take a stronger effort on my part to draw him out than I wished to
make. So, I yielded with as good a grace as possible, and aided in
the selection of a cheap sofa, a cheap, overgrown centre table, and
two or three other article that were almost “thrown away.”
Well, our parlor was furnished with its new dress in good time, and
made quite a respectable appearance. Mr. Smith was delighted with
everything; the more particularly as the cost had been so moderate.
I had my own thoughts on the subject; and looked very confidently
for some evidences of imperfection in our great bargains. I was not
very long kept in suspense. One morning, about two weeks after all
had been fitted out so elegantly, while engaged in dusting the
chairs, a part of the mahogany ornament in the back of one of them
fell off. On the next day, another showed the same evidence of
imperfect workmanship. A few evenings afterwards, as we sat at the
centre table, one of our children leaned on it rather heavily, when
there was a sudden crack, and the side upon which he was bearing his
weight, swayed down the distance of half an inch or more. The next
untoward event was the dropping of one of its feet by the sofa, and
the warping up of a large piece of veneering on the back. While
lamenting over this, we discovered a broken spring ready to make its
way through the hair cloth covering.
“So much for cheap furniture,” said I, in a tone of involuntary
triumph.
My husband looked at me half reproachfully, and so I said no more.
It was now needful to send for a cabinet maker, and submit our sofa
and chairs to his handy workmanship. He quickly discovered other
imperfections, and gave us the consoling information that our fine
furniture was little above fourth-rate in quality, and dear at any
price. A ten dollar bill was required to pay the damage they had
already sustained, even under our careful hands.
A more striking evidence of our folly in buying cheap furniture was,
however, yet to come. An intimate friend came in one evening to sit
a few hours with us. After conversing for a time, both he and my
husband took up books, and commenced reading, while I availed myself
of the opportunity to write a brief letter. Our visitor, who was a
pretty stout man, had the bad fault of leaning back in his chair,
and balancing himself on its hind legs; an experiment most trying to
the best mahogany chairs that were ever made.
We were all sitting around the centre table, upon which burned a
tall astral lamp, and I was getting absorbed in my letter, when
suddenly there was a loud crash, followed by the breaking of the
table from its centre, and the pitching over of the astral lamp,
which, in falling, just grazed my side, and went down, oil and all,
upon our new carpet! An instant more, and we were in total darkness.
But, ere the light went out, a glance had revealed a scene that I
shall never forget. Our visitor, whose weight, as he tried his usual
balancing experiment, had caused the slender legs of his chair to
snap off short, had fallen backwards. In trying to save himself, he
had caught at the table, and wrenched that from its centre
fastening. Startled by this sudden catastrophe, my husband had
sprung to his feet, grasping his chair with the intent of drawing it
away, when the top of the back came off in his hand. I saw all this
at a single glance—and then we were shrouded in darkness.
Of the scene that followed, I will not speak. My lady readers can,
without any effort of the mind, imagine something of its
unpleasant reality. As for our visitor, when lights were brought in,
he was no where to be seen. I have a faint recollection of having
heard the street door shut amid the confusion that succeeded the
incident just described.
About a week afterwards, the whole of our cheap furniture was sent
to auction, where it brought less than half its first cost. It was
then replaced with good articles, by good workmen, at a fair price;
not one of which has cost us, to this day, a single cent for
repairs.
A housekeeping friend of mine, committed, not, long since, a similar
error. Her husband could spare her a couple of hundred dollars for
re-furnishing purposes; but, as his business absorbed nearly all of
his time and thoughts, he left with her the selection of the new
articles that were to beautify their parlors and chambers, merely
saying to her:
“Let what you get be good. It is cheapest in the end.”
Well, my friend had set her heart on a dozen chairs, a new sofa,
centre table, and “what-not,” for her parlors; and on a
dressing-bureau, mahogany bedstead, and wash-stand, for her chamber,
besides a new chamber carpet. Her first visit was to the ware-rooms
of one of our best cabinet makers; but, his prices completely
frightened her—for, at his rate, the articles she wanted would
amount to more than all the money she had to spend, and leave
nothing for the new chamber carpet.
“I must buy cheaper,” said she.
“The cheapest is generally dearest in the end,” returned the cabinet
maker.
“I don’t know about that,” remarked the lady, whose thoughts did not
take in the meaning of the man’s words. “All I know is, that I can
get as good articles as I desire at lower prices than you ask.”
It d
id not once occur to my friend, that it would be wisest to
lessen the number of articles, and get the remainder of the first
quality. No; her heart covered the whole inventory at first made
out, and nothing less would answer. So she went to an auction store,
and bought inferior articles at lower prices. I visited her soon
after. She showed me her bargains, and, with an air of exultation,
spoke of the cost.
“What do you think I paid for this?” said she, referring to a showy
dressing-bureau; and, as she spoke, she took hold of the suspended
looking-glass, and moved the upper portion of it forward. “Only
seventeen dollars!”
The words had scarcely passed her lips, ere the looking-glass broke
away from one of the screws that held it in the standards, and fell,
crashing, at our feet!
It cost just seven dollars to replace the glass. But, that was not
all—over thirty dollars were paid during the first year for
repairs. And this is only the beginning of troubles.
Cheap furniture is, in most cases, the dearest that housekeepers can
buy. It is always breaking, and usually costs more, in a year or
two, than the difference between its price and that of first-rate
articles; to say nothing of the vexation and want of satisfaction
that always attends its possession. Better be content with fewer
articles, if the purse be low, and have them good.
While on this subject, I will incorporate in these “Confessions” an
“Experience” of my sister and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. John Jones.
Mr. Jones is, in some respects, very much like Mr. Smith, and, as
will be seen in the story about to be given, my sister’s ideas of
things and my own, run quite parallel to each other. The story has
found its way, elsewhere, into print, for Mr. Jones, like myself,
has a natural fondness for types. But its repetition here will do no
harm, and bring it before many who would not otherwise see it.
CHAPTER V.
IS IT ECONOMY?
THE “Experience” of my relative, Mr. John Jones, referred to in the
preceding chapter, is given in what follows. After reading it, we
think that few young housekeepers will commit the folly of indulging
to any very great extent in cheap furniture.
We had been married five years, and during the time had boarded for
economy’s sake. But the addition of one after another to our family,
