"I learned from day to day, from Fred and the other members of the family, how the sick boy was getting along. He was fast improving, it seemed.
"I was soon transferred to the cushion from which I had been taken, where I remained for some time, until fall, indeed. From time to time, though, I was used for little things by different members of the family, but nothing special occurred in my presence, and I was seldom taken from my resting-place, for I was so long, that it was seldom that any one wanted to use me." (Moral: If you are long about doing things, no one will want your help.)
"One day trunks were being packed, there was a general air of 'going away' about the house, and I learned that the lady, Fred's mother, was going away to be gone for some time. The children were to remain at home with their father. The last day I, or, more properly speaking, the pincushion on which I was, was packed in a satchel, and taken to the depot, and I knew no more of where I was for a good while, except by the rocking and noise of the train. Soon the satchel I was in was picked up, I felt the motion of a carriage again, and when light was let in upon me, we were in a room in a hotel, and my mistress placed my pincushion on the bureau, where I could see the busy street of a large city. The pins that were with me were pretty good company, and we remained in the city (that is, my mistress did) for some weeks, when one day, to our amazement, she packed up and went off, leaving us behind!
THE COUNTRY BOARDING-HOUSE.
"Well, during that winter the room was occupied by various persons, thus affording me opportunity to study human nature, but I will not tire you with the results of the study, for I am simply telling you the story of my life. None of these persons touched me, but finally all the other pins were gone from the cushion, and I was left alone, and consequently was rather lonesome. The room was hired by a mother and her baby, a father and his baby, a young couple taking their wedding trip, I judged, and divers and sundry other people, who, as I remarked before, paid no attention to me. I grew more and more lonely, and was almost despairing of ever getting out of the hotel, when, one day, a fat old gentleman was led into the room by the colored porter, and established himself there. He was an author"—
"The one that boards here now?" I interrupted.
"Never mind," responded the pin, "don't interrupt me, please. This gentleman was an author, as I said before. He had papers and papers and papers! He had pens and pens and pens! He had stylographic pens, Mackinnon pens, and Paragon pens, and Todd's pens, and other pens! He came there to be quiet, he said, but he made more noise than anybody else in the house, except the solo singer, who roomed at our right, and the elocutionist (female, of course) who roomed at our left.
"One day the old gentleman announced to the porter that he couldn't stand it in that horrid place any longer, and he must help him get away the very next day. So he went. And as he was packing up, he found one roll of manuscript that wasn't pinned together, and so he drew me out from my long resting-place, much to my joy, and fastened the roll together with me.