IN DOORS AND OUT;

OR,

VIEWS FROM THE CHIMNEY CORNER.

BY

OLIVER OPTIC.

BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.

NEW YORK: CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM.

[2]

Copyright, William T. Adams, A. D. 1875.

[3]

TO MY OLD FRIEND THE HON. CHARLES KIMBALL, SHERIFF OF MIDDLESEX, This Volume IS RESPECTFULLY RE-DEDICATED.

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PREFACE.

Some of the sketches contained in this volume have appeared in the Boston True Flag, the American Union, and, one of them—“The New Minister”—in Gleason’s Pictorial; the remainder have not been published before.

A great variety of sketches has been introduced, nearly all of them practical in their application, and illustrative of the social and domestic duties of life. No attempt at “fine writing” has been made in them; they are simply home thrusts at the follies of the parlor and the kitchen; of the shop and the counting-room; in short, of life “in doors and out.”

The author is encouraged to collect these simple stories in a volume, by the advice of partial friends, and by a desire to redeem them of a kind of literary orphanage to which the unscrupulousness of some reckless man of paste and scissors has reduced them. Many of them are now travelling over the country, like a dog without a collar; but unlike that highly respectable puppy which isn’t any body’s dog, they have an anxious friend at home, who takes this method of calling them back to the fold again.

W. T. A.

Dorchester, Sept. 12, 1854.

[7]

PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION.

This volume, originally issued twenty-one years ago, is reprinted and republished at the request of many partial friends. One sketch, which was simply a love story, has been omitted in this edition, and new illustrations have been made for it; but the contents of the book are otherwise the same as in the original volume. As most of the sketches were written a quarter of a century ago, rents, the salaries of clerks and others, and the prices of various kinds of goods do not agree with the standards of the present day. The author hopes the book will be as kindly received to-day as it was twenty-one years ago.

WILLIAM T. ADAMS.

Dorchester, October 26, 1875.

“Mr. Wm. T. Adams, who seems by the dedication to be the deus ex machina, has done himself credit. *** It contains twenty or thirty very sprightly and pointed stories, each sharply hitting some social absurdity or social vice. The conversations are remarkably conversational; just such questions, answers, and remarks as real people make. This gives a pleasant freshness to the narratives and dialogues, although not calculated to render the book a model of classical English style.”—Putnam’s Monthly, Feb. 1855.

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CONTENTS.

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[11]

IN DOORS AND OUT.

CHAPTER I.

My friend, Frank Howard, was a dry goods dealer on Washington Street. When I made his acquaintance, he was one of the most active and successful salesmen in the trade, and being a prudent man, had saved a small sum of money, with which and the credit he might be able to obtain, he proposed to commence business on his own account.

Among his acquaintances he had the good fortune to include a wealthy merchant, whose judgment had led him to form a lofty estimate of the business capacity of my friend.

To him the young aspirant for mercantile honors stated his case, and the conference ended in a voluntary proposition on the part of the merchant to supply the goods necessary to stock his store, taking his notes, the first of which would fall due in one year, in payment.

The arrangement was completed, and in a few days Frank found himself installed in a convenient store, on the best part of the street, ready to strike for his fortune.

[12]

The notes had not been signed, and one evening, on some business connected with them, Frank called, by appointment, at the princely mansion of his worthy benefactor. He was ushered into the sitting room, where the merchant was reading the evening paper. By his side sat a beautiful young lady, to whom his patron politely introduced him.

My friend belonged to that anomalous class of beings styled “handsome men;” at least the ladies all said he was handsome, though for the life of me I never could tell wherein his beauty consisted. But as I have no particular fancy for masculine beauty, it may have escaped my notice, or the natural selfishness of mankind may have prejudiced my judgment.

My friend was acknowledged by all the ladies to be a remarkably handsome man; and, probably, this was the secret of his immense success as a salesman. Whether he reckoned his beauty as one of the items of his stock in trade, when he went into business, I am unable to say; but I have not the least doubt he based his hopes of success, to a great extent, upon the influence of his prepossessing personal appearance.

Frank fixed his eyes on the young lady, as the merchant, who had, when he entered, half read a money article in his paper, turned to finish it. Miss Allen—such was the name by which she had been presented to him—was busily engaged in crocheting a little silk purse, and as she bent over the work, Frank was perfectly satisfied that he had never seen so pretty a face in his life.

And then the neatest, most graceful little foot in [13]the world, protruded from beneath a light silk dress—a foot which completely turned Frank’s head, so that he forgot all about the notes and the merchant.

Without the least regard to etiquette, politeness, good breeding, and all that sort of thing, he stared mercilessly at her, and never, for even the fraction of a moment, removed his gaze, not even allowing himself the luxury of winking, lest the time so employed should be lost.

Frank was perfectly sure that he had never before felt exactly as he did at that halcyon moment. It seemed as though all the divinities of paradise were concentrated in the fair form before him, as though he had been transplanted to an Elysium of love.

And the maiden was not altogether unmoved. The embryo merchant several times detected her in the act of stealing a glance at him through the long, fringing eyelashes that adorned her peerless brow. He plainly saw her blush; saw her bosom heave with a flutter as she caught his earnest gaze.

Frank Howard was a handsome man; and somehow or other, men and women who are favored in this respect always contrive to find it out. Frank knew that he was a handsome man, and never in his life did he more devoutly thank his stars, which had given him personal beauty, than at this particular moment.

The lady had already found out that he was handsome, and if the stupid fellow had not stared so furiously at her, she would no doubt have done the same thing he was doing.

Mr. Allen finished the money article, and laid down the paper. Frank has owned to me that he wished it had been twice, or even four times as long.

[14]

The details of the business were discussed, and the papers drawn. While it was in progress, Frank more than once detected the beautiful fairy in the act of looking at him; several times detected her in the very act of blushing, when their eyes met.

The business was finished at last, much to the regret of my handsome friend, who, when he got into the street, went straightway into a fit of abstraction, and had walked half way across Charlestown bridge, on his way home, before he happened to think that he lived at the South End.

It was all up with poor Frank; he had fallen in love—was stark, staring mad in love—with whom he knew not, for it was well known that Mr. Allen had no daughter. She was a relative, however, for she bore his name.

But if Frank was in love, there was some consolation in the fact, that the fair creature who had stolen his heart was in the same predicament.

The next day, she came a shopping at his store, and the next, and the next; indeed, almost every day. No conversation had passed between them; and, though he had been introduced on the evening of his visit, he had been too much overwhelmed to use words.

My friend, however, did not lack that necessary attribute of a successful wooer, somewhat vulgarly termed “spunk.” He had no further business with the merchant; but then his case was a desperate one, and he made an errand.

Miss Allen blushed as he entered, but she was social and agreeable to the last degree, so much so that Frank staid till the bells rung for nine o’clock before he knew it. The ice was broken, and my friend was in for it.

[15]

The lady was a niece of the merchant, twenty-one years of age, and an heiress. In the course of a few months, Frank’s energy won the victory, and it was understood that they were engaged.

The merchant did not like it. Being somewhat exclusive in his ideas of social intercourse, the prospective marriage of his wealthy niece to a poor retailer was repugnant to the last degree, and he resolved to thwart the purpose of the loving couple.

At first, he appealed to the lady; but she only laughed at him; told him bluntly that she loved Mr. Howard, and would have him. Then he reasoned with Frank, on his ingratitude to him, his benefactor. The young man was touched, and promised to consider it.

He did consider it, and his loving inamorata helped him consider it. After a hasty deliberation, it was unanimously agreed to lay the whole matter “on the table.”

Mr. Allen was informed of the decision, and as old fogies always do when they cannot do any thing else, bit his lip and swallowed his words, fully resolved to do something dreadful, whenever an opportunity occurred.

CHAPTER II.

A year after my friend went into business, as I passed his store one morning, I was not a little surprised to find it closed. Before the window was that ominous white cloth, denoting that the occupant had failed.

I entered the store. Frank stood at his desk, glancing [16]with a most woe-begone aspect at the pages of his ledger.

“How’s this, Frank?” I asked; and I never was more surprised in my life.

“Bu’st up! don’t you see?” replied he, rather petulantly.

“But what does it mean?”

“Mean! Why, that I had a note of a thousand dollars, due yesterday, which I could not pay; and this morning early, my amiable friend, Mr. Allen, put in a keeper—that’s all.”

“How does it happen? I thought you were doing a rushing business.”

“So I was. I had the money to pay this note six weeks ago, and let Smith have it at two per cent. a month,” replied he, with a ghastly smile.

“And Smith has failed?”

“Not exactly. He has stopped; but every body says he is good, if he has time to turn himself.”

“And you must make a fail of it in the mean time?”

“If I could only stave off Mr. Allen a couple of months, I could get out of the scrape with flying colors.”

“Won’t he wait?”

Frank shook his head; he had mortally offended the proud merchant, and there was no prospect that he would be lenient in the slightest degree.

“Can’t you raise the money?”

“No; times haven’t been so hard for four years. Every body is failing, and the money men won’t trust their own fathers.”

At this moment Mr. Allen entered the store. He looked stern and severe, like one who has the power in his own hands, and is disposed to use it. I seated myself near the desk, as he approached.

[17]

The merchant politely saluted the unfortunate dealer, smiling as blandly as though nothing had happened; as though he had no niece, and Frank were a Stoic.

“Mr. Howard, this is unfortunate; but in the midst of so much commercial disaster, you perceive that it was my only course,” said the merchant, soothingly.

“I suppose it was; but you know the cause of my inability to pay the note,” returned Frank, with a doleful expression.

“Ah, young man, you ought not to have lent the money to Smith; if you had asked my advice, I could have told you better.”

“Smith was always supposed to be good.”

The merchant shook his head.

“But, Mr. Allen, give me a short time, and I can pay the note. Smith assures me he shall recover himself.”

“Mr. Howard, I certainly wish you well; I have done all I could to give you a fair start.”

“So you have, sir, and I am very grateful to you.”

“Are you?” and the merchant fixed a keen glance upon the young man.

“I assure you that I am.”

“How have you manifested it?” continued the merchant, sternly. “But no matter; we meet now as business men.”

“Well, what shall be done? You have stopped me; I can do no more.”

“I don’t wish to be hard. I would wait if prudence would justify it,” said Mr. Allen, who was keenly sensitive in regard to his reputation for generosity and fairness.

In fact, he was a man of good feelings, and only [18]that he meant to punish Frank for falling in love with his wealthy niece, would not have disturbed him.

“You will be just as secure two months hence as now,” pleaded Frank.

“I have not that confidence in you, Mr. Howard,—I say it frankly,—which I had once. You have lost a thousand dollars. I doubt if your stock, under the hammer, would pay my notes.”

Frank looked savage, for though he was crestfallen, he was Frank Howard yet, and felt keenly the unjust imputation of the merchant.

“I wish to be fair, and even indulgent,” continued Mr. Allen, before Frank had time to utter the ungracious sentiment that rose to his lips. “Here is the note; give me one good indorser, and I will wait two months.”

Frank looked up, and smiled in contempt at the miserable subterfuge of the merchant, who meant to crush him, and still preserve an appearance of fairness. He knew it would be impossible for the young man, with his stock encumbered, to procure the security.

“Will you take Smith?” asked Frank, hurriedly.

“Of course not,” replied Mr. Allen, with a bland smile.

“I will see what can be done; but I think the case is hopeless.”

The merchant withdrew, assured in his own mind that his revenge was sure, and his reputation safe, at the same time.

Frank and myself canvassed the matter, but we could think of no person whose milk of human kindness was sufficiently abundant to prompt him to do such an insane act. While we were debating the [19]matter, Frank was struck up by the entrance of Miss Allen.

“How gloomy you look here to-day, Frank,” said she, laughing, and showing in the act the prettiest row of pearly teeth I ever saw.

“We are gloomy, indeed,” replied Frank, mustering a sickly smile. “But you know the reason?”

“Why, what reason?” asked she, her merry expression relapsing into a serious one.

“You see that man?”

“Yes.”

“He is a keeper!” replied Frank, with tragic effect.

“A keeper! of what? Are you insane?” responded the lady, playfully; for it must be confessed she was not acquainted with the technicalities of business.

Frank laughed, and explained the disaster which had overtaken him.

“Poh!” exclaimed she, with an appearance of relief; and I really believe, if the keeper and myself had not been in the way, she would have thrown her arms around his neck, and kissed away his mortification.

I had before been introduced to the lady, and at this moment advanced to join in the conversation.

“And my uncle is the wretch?” continued she, merrily. “But what can you do? How can you get out of it?”

Frank explained the proposition to procure an indorser for the note. The light-hearted maiden appeared to have but little sympathy for the misfortunes of her lover, and asked all sorts of questions about indorsers, notes, and business forms.

“Where is the note you are to have indorsed?” asked she.

[20]

“Mr. Allen has it.”

“How can you have it indorsed, then?”

“I can write another,” replied Frank, smiling at the innocence of his betrothed.

“Then write one,” said she, promptly.

Frank looked at her a moment, to ascertain what mischief was lurking in her mind. She smiled, apparently without the power to prevent it.

The lover, impelled by curiosity as much as any other motive, wrote the note and signed it.

“Now how do you indorse it?” asked she.

“By writing the name across the back.”

The lady approached the desk, and turning the note, wrote, with two dashes of the pen, “Isabel Allen,” across it.

“It is indorsed,” said she, with a smile, which told Frank all she meant.

“But, Isabel——”

“Good morning, Frank,” interrupted she, and hastened out of the store.

“Bravo, Frank!” exclaimed I.

He smiled doubtfully. His pride was a little touched.

“Would you use it?” said he, after a long pause.

“Use it? to be sure!” and he did use it.

In the afternoon Mr. Allen called, satisfied in his own mind that he should witness the complete humiliation of the young man, who had had the audacity to fall in love with an heiress. Knowing at what hour he would call, I was careful to be present.

“Well, Mr. Howard, how have you succeeded? I have really been in hopes you will be able to secure the paper,” said the merchant; and I could plainly discern the malicious chuckle on his face as he spoke.

[21]

“I have succeeded, Mr. Allen; and I am infinitely obliged to you for your good will.”

The merchant was completely staggered at the reply. It was wholly unexpected, and wholly unwelcome also.

“I trust you have procured a good one,” said he, painfully.

“A wealthy one, but a name unknown on State Street.”

“Can’t take it, then,” answered the merchant, promptly, and with renewed hope.

“But a name well known to you!” and Frank handed him the note.

Mr. Allen started back in surprise and anger, as he read the name of the fair indorser.

“Very well, sir; when a man of any delicacy can resort to such a trick as this, I have nothing more to do with him.” And the crestfallen merchant, after throwing the old note on the counter, hastened indignantly from the store.

The keeper was withdrawn, and Frank heard no more from Mr. Allen. A week after, Smith paid the money, and Frank took up his note.

Before another of the notes came due, Isabel Allen had become Mrs. Frank Howard. The stock and stand were sold out, the debts paid, and my handsome friend is as happy as a beautiful wife, with a heart full of love, can make him.

[22]

CHAPTER I.

“Your girl is a prize, Mrs. Bagley,” said Mrs. Veazie, a lady whose physiognomy was rather indicative of a sour temper.

“Bridget is a good girl,” responded the lady addressed; “and she has been with me over a year now.”

“Indeed! Over a year! Well, I am astonished! For my part, if I get a good girl, I can’t keep her.”

“I have been very fortunate in that respect.”

“You have indeed. O dear! it is really terrible to think how much one is dependent upon these Irish servant girls. They are such lazy, impudent, good-for-nothing creatures, that it is enough to weary out one’s life.”

[23]

“Some of them are. If I had been so unfortunate as to get such a one as you describe, I should instantly discharge her. But very few are of that description.”

“Very few! Let me tell you that your girl is one in a thousand, Mrs. Bagley. Where you find one who is honest, faithful, and respectful, you will find nine hundred and ninety-nine who are just the reverse.”

“I can hardly believe it,” replied the good-natured Mrs. Bagley, with a smile of incredulity upon her pleasant features.

“It is as true as the gospel! Why, I have had no less than ten different girls within a year.”

“Ten! Is it possible?”

“And my family is no larger and the work is no harder than yours. Isn’t it singular?”

Politeness compelled Mrs. Bagley to answer that it was singular; but, at the same time, she knew that it was not so very singular, after all. If she had felt at liberty to do so, she could have given her friend a solution of the mystery.

“And the girl I have now I shall be compelled to discharge. She is discontented, impudent, and overbearing.”

“I am sorry for you.”

“She is a capital girl in every other respect, and I am sorry to part with her. She is a good cook, and—what you don’t find in many girls—understands pastry, cake, and puddings.”