But my last hope was shivered the other day, upon reading, in a public print, that not only was a person unfit for society, who could not remember the names of those to whom he had been presented, but that if he had failed to pronounce that name in the manner the happy owner of it preferred, it was a mark of low-breeding.
Well, if it has come to that, the question is what is to become of me? I have done my best, when I am pulled and twitched, to bow and smile in the direction indicated; but it is a miserable failure. I know it. I always look the wrong way; I frown at my best friends, and smile idiotically—to order—on Shem, Ham, and Japheth. I hand a ten-dollar bill to pay for twenty-five cents' worth of hair-pins, and go out forgetting my change. I go into the next store, and make a purchase of a stranger, and depart without alluding in any way to the remuneration: and when he follows me to the door and meekly inquires my name and address, I ask him with the dignity becoming a wife and matron and a grandmother, what business that is of his? Last week it rained, and I left my domicile with an umbrella in each hand. Yesterday I went out with only one India-rubber shoe on, and feeling cold in the neglected foot, remarked to my companion that I thought one of my India-rubbers must have a hole in it to let in the water so badly. It is very trying to listen, at such a crisis, to the indignant and oft-repeated query, "Are you going mad?" but I have to endure it, and, what is worse, I have the sorrowful consciousness of deserving it.
What troubles me most is, whether I am to pay six cents for car-fare and ten cents for omnibus, or six cents for car and five for omnibus. Also, what that gentleman thought of me who was polite enough to hand up my fare, when, upon presenting me the change, I told him that I had no occasion for charity. I think the driver was to blame there, in allowing ten minutes to elapse before making change, during which I sunk into my customary stupor.
It is useless to enumerate the gloves I have worn in public places, where the curious spectacle has been presented by the glare of gas-light, of one black hand and one green one; and, more marvellous still, when this aberration has been intensified by both green and black for the same hand.
I have requested my "keepers," when my madness reaches indisputable lunacy, to pad the walls of my room, and turn the key on me there, instead of transferring me to a Lunatic Asylum; where my superior and unapproachable idiocy would so excite the envy of the other inmates, that my life might be the forfeit. In the meantime, any of my friends who are shedding salt tears that I have not noticed them, or if any who are not friends are bristling with indignation because I have, are requested, one and all, to pity my unhappy condition and pass me by.
The solution of all this is, that I have a new book in press. That the proofs of the same are sent to snarl me up late in the evening, just before I go to sleep. That beside this, I am writing—well, you'll see what, by and by. That I have had sickness in the house for six weeks. That I am house-keeper. That I have scores of letters to read and answer; and that I have a little duck of a grandchild, who every hour or two wants me "to tell her a story that is new and true." Am I excused?
Shall I relate my first theft? Well, I had bought a new muff; that is nothing surprising in a city where women trim their dresses with diamonds. But there is a story to that muff. With a wholesome horror of female shoplifters, I had attached to it a silk cord, which I could pass over my neck; thus placing beyond their reach the temptation to appropriate it, should I lay it down temporarily on some counter, while shopping. Thus armed, I went forth.
Well, as I say, thus armed, I went out to buy some little matters needed in my household. After paying for them, I took a muff from the counter before me, placed my hands in it, and pursued my journey. I had not proceeded more than a block, before a bare-headed clerk came rushing after me, jostling the crowd on either side, and placing his hands as I thought very familiarly on my muff, took it from me, remarking as he did so, "By your leave, madam," and disappeared with it, instanter. I looked about me for a policeman, when just then my hand became entangled in the string around my neck. Good heavens! I had then taken some other lady's muff from the counter! I had walked out with two muffs. One about my neck, one in my hands. I did not pursue my search for that policeman. I was also seized with such a violent fit of laughter at the ludicrousness and novelty of my position, that I was quite incapable of locomotion.
Just then I met a lady friend, to whom I told the story, as well as my frequent bursts of merriment permitted. She looked as solemn as a hearse; she said sepulchrally, "How can you laugh? I should have died with mortification." And the more solemn she looked the more I laughed, and I haven't done laughing yet, although it was three days ago. I am at present looking for the finale—viz., my picture in the Rogue's Gallery as an accomplished female shoplifter. I may have stolen other things, but, upon my word, this is the first time I ever stole a muff. It was so comical, that if a station-house had been my portion I know I should have laughed all the same; besides, I always wanted to see a station-house. I might possibly have preferred riding there in a carriage, if the policeman in attendance had no objection, or if the walking was bad, or it stormed!
Finally, my brethren, a correspondent inquires how I look? Am I tall? have I dark, or light complexion? and what color are my eyes?