The girl departed, and soon returned with a ponderous paper box, laden with the articles required.
"Now," said Mrs. Pompaliner, "now, Brown, look at those articles; don't you see that they have been touched?"
"Tetched! lord-a-massy, ma'am, how'd you get 'em ironed, folded and brought home, ma'am, without tetching 'em?"
"Olivia, Vanilla, where are you? Jessamine, dear, bring me a fresh handkerchief, ignite a _pastile_, there's such an odor in the room. Do you _smell_, Mrs. a--Brown, that horrid lavender or rose, or, or,--do you smell it, Brown?"
"Lord-a-massy, ma'am," said the old woman of suds, "I ollers smell a dreadful smell here; them parfumeries o' yourn, I often tell my Augusty, I wonder them stinkin'--"
"O! O! dear!" cries Mrs. Pompaliner, going off "into a spell;" recovering a little, Mrs. Pompaliner proceeds to state that for some time past, she had been troubled with _a presentiment_, that her fine clothes had been tampered with after leaving the smoothing iron, and how fatal to her would be the fact of any mortal daring to use, in the remotest manner, any fresh garment or personal apparel of hers! Suspicion had been aroused, the articles before the parties were now diligently examined, when, lo! a spot, not unlike a slight smear of vermilion, was discovered upon a splendid handkerchief--it gave Mrs. P. an electric shock; but, O horror! the next thing turned up was a _spangle_, big as a half dime, upon one of Mrs. P.'s most superb skirts! This awful revelation, connected with the smell of vile lavender and worse patchouly, upon another piece of woman gear, threw Mrs. Pompaliner into spasms, between the motions of which she gasped:
The whole thing was out: the sacred garments of Mrs. P. had not only been _touched_ by sacrilegious hands, but had had an airing, and smelt the lamps of the play-house! Mrs. Pompaliner was so shocked, that four first-class physicians tended her for a whole season.
Mrs. Brown lost a profitable customer, and well walloped her ballet-nymph daughter Augusty, for attiring herself in the finery of her most possibly particular and sensitive customer! It was awful!
Old Ben. Franklin said it was his opinion that, between imprisonment and being at large in debt to your neighbor, there was no _difference_ worthy the name of it. Some people have a monstrous sight of courage in debt, more than they have out of it, while we have known some, who, though not afraid to stand fire or water, shook in their very boots--wilted right down, before the frown of a creditor! A man that can _dun_ to death, or stand a deadly _dun_, possesses talents no Christian need envy; for, next to Lucifer, we look upon the confirmed "diddler" and professional _dun_, for every ignoble trait in the character of mankind. A friend at our elbow has just possessed us of some facts so mirth-provoking, (to us, not to him,) that we jot them down for the amusement and information of suffering mankind and the rest of creation, who now and then get into a scrimmage with rogues, lawyers and law. And perhaps it may be as well to let the _indefatigable_ tell his own story: