LIBRARY 
 
 ANNEX 
 
 
hi 
 
 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 J. Franklin Bradley 
 Endowment 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 1405.A8 1897 
 
 Autobiography of a pocket-handkerchief / 
 
 3 1924 008 177 390 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tiiis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924008177390 
 
This edition consists of five hundred copies ; 
 of which this book is No. 'isf cS~ 
 
Autobiography of a Pocket- 
 Handkerchief 
 
Autobiography 
 
 Of a 
 
 Pocket- Handkerchief 
 
 By 
 
 James Fenimore Cooper 
 
 Edited with Notes and an Introduction 
 
 By 
 
 Walter Lee Brown 
 
 |GOLDEN= 
 
 PRE55 
 I^VflNSTON 
 
 BOOKE 
 Illinois 1 
 
 mdcccxcvii 
 
COPYRIGHT 
 
 By WALTER LEE BROWN 
 
 1897 
 
 R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 This story, by the author of "The Spy," "The 
 Pilot," and the Leatherstocking Series, has not, 
 to our knowledge, been republished since its first 
 appearance more than half a century ago. As 
 stated by T. R. Lounsbury, in his Life of Cooper, 
 it seems to be the fact, that " for some reason not 
 easy to explain, this has never been included in 
 the regular editions of his novels." 
 
 In his brief notice of the work Professor Louns- 
 bury does not flatter it, commenting as follows: 
 " In it he made in some measure another effort to 
 reproduce the social life of New York City. The 
 previous failure was repeated. An air of ridicu- 
 lous unreality is given to this part of the story in 
 which the impossible talk of impossible people is 
 paraded as a genuine representation of what takes 
 place in civilized society." Nevertheless, and in 
 spite of this sharp-edged opinion, the story has a 
 value and an interest of its own, as presenting one 
 phase of Cooper's genius and as illustrating his 
 satirical ideas of certain aspects of American 
 society of that period, which had so recently 
 been punctured by the caustic, semi-truthful pens 
 of Dickens and Mrs. Trollope. 
 
6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 No one character in this little novel can hope 
 to live with Harvey Birch or immortal Natty 
 Bumppo, yet the tale deserves a better fate than 
 oblivion. It is here given; let the reader form 
 his own judgment. 
 
 In 1843 the story first appeared, and in three 
 forms. In point of time, the first was as pub- 
 lished in Graham's Magazine, volume XXII, 
 detailed as below: 
 
 No. I. January, 1843. Pages 1-18. 
 
 No. 2. February, 1843. Pages 89-102. 
 
 No. 3. March, 1843. Pages 158-167. 
 
 No. 4. April, 1843. Pages 205-213. 
 
 The first installment was entitled "Autobiog- 
 raphy of a Pocket-Handkerchief," announced as 
 " By the author of " The Red Rover," " The Pio- 
 neers," " Le Feu-Follet," etc.," but the subse- 
 quent numbers were headed as " By J. F. Cooper, 
 author of "The Red Rover," " Le Feu-Follet," 
 etc." There was no division into chapters or 
 parts. 
 
 The second form but the first appearance as a 
 separate publication, making it then the true first 
 American edition, was among the extra sheets 
 issued by the publishers of " Brother Jonathan." 
 This was a double-column, 32-page quarto pam- 
 phlet (size about 8|-xiif inches), uncut, with no 
 covers, and having an ornamental half-page title 
 inscribed " Brother Jonathan, Extra sheet. Num- 
 ber XXII. Wilson & Company, Publishers. New 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 York, March 22, 1843." The title now read " Le 
 Mouchoir, | An Autobiographical Romance. | By 
 J. Fenimore Cooper, Esq. | Author of "The Spy," 
 "The Pilot," "Home as Found," | " Wing-and- 
 Wing," "The Two Admirals," &c." It was 
 divided into eighteen chapters. 
 
 The third form was the first English edition (and 
 ihe first and only <5w/^), being in post 8vo, 294 
 pages (4-|x7-|- inches approximately), boards, 
 uncut, published by Richard Bentley, and printed 
 by R. Clay. The title was " The French | Gov- 
 erness; I or, the I Embroidered Handkerchief. | 
 A Romance. | By J. Fenimore Cooper, | Author 
 of "The Pilot," "The Red Rover," "The Jack 
 o' Lantern," &c. | London: | Richard Bentley, 
 New Burlington Street. | 1843." The half-title 
 varied the true title with " Le Mouchoir; | An 
 Auto-Biographical Romance," while the running 
 titles still further rang the changes by alternating 
 "The French Governess," "or, Le Mouchoir." 
 So that, altogether, this short novel has had more 
 titles than many more pretentious ones. The 
 book was divided into eighteen chapters, similarly 
 to the Brother Jonathan issue. 
 
 It has been our good fortune to obtain the 
 original manuscript of this novel, showing all the 
 author's corrections and interlineations, just as he 
 prepared it for Graham's Magazine. In reprinting 
 the story, we have used the text of the Graham 
 issue, noting all variants in the Brother Jonathan 
 
8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and Bentley editions, and giving the corrections, 
 alterations and notes of the Ma?iuscnpt. By so 
 doing, we shall get behind the scenes, into the 
 workshop, as it were, of a famous author's mind; 
 an invariably fascinating undertaking, always de- 
 sirable, but not always easy of achievement. 
 
 Walter Lee Brown. 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 OF A 
 
 POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF.' 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Certain moral philosophers, with a due disdain 
 of the flimsy foundations ^ of human pride, have 
 shown'' that every man is equally descended 
 from a million of ancestors, within a given num- 
 ber of generations; thereby demonstrating that 
 no prince exists who does not participate in the 
 blood of some beggar, or any beggar who does 
 not share in the blood of princes. Although 
 favored* by a strictly vegetable descent myself, 
 the laws of nature have not permitted us to escape 
 
 'The MS. of the first installment heads it "The Auto- 
 biography of a Pocket Handkerchief," the second part is 
 briefly " Autobiography of Pockethandkerchief," the third 
 section is " Autobiography of a Pocket Handkerchief," while 
 the last portion is "Autobiography of a Pockethandkerchief." 
 Each part is separately paged, being 26, 18, 11 and 8 sheets 
 respectively, of 63 closely written folio pages in all. 
 
 ^Graham's and MS.; Brother Jonathan and Bentley in 
 the singular. 
 
 *MS. has " demonstrated " crossed out and '"shown" 
 above it. 
 
 * The Bentley edition inserts the superfluous "u" here, 
 and elsewhere throughout the entire book. 
 
lO AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 from the influence of this common rule. The 
 earliest accounts I possess of my progenitors rep- 
 resent them as a goodly growth of the Linum 
 Usitatissimum, divided into a thousand cotem- 
 poraneous' plants, singularly well conditioned, 
 and remarkable for an equality that^ renders the 
 production valuable. In this particular, then, I 
 may be said to enjoy a precedency over the 
 Bourbons themselves, who now govern no less 
 than four different states of Europe, and who 
 have sat on thrones these thousand years. 
 
 While our family has followed the general 
 human law in the matter just mentioned, it forms 
 a marked exception to the rule that so absolutely 
 controls all of white blood, on this continent, in 
 what relates to immigration and territorial origin.' 
 When the American enters on the* history of his 
 ancestors, he is driven, after some '" ten or twelve 
 generations at most, to seek refuge in a^ country 
 in Europe; whereas exactly the reverse is the 
 case with us, our most remote extraction being 
 American, while our more recent construction and 
 
 Note. — The Brother Jonathan issue is full of typograph- 
 ical and grammatical errors, mispelled words, blunders in 
 punctuation, etc., too trivial to be noticed in detail. 
 
 ^ MS. and Bentley, "contemporaneous." 
 
 'MS., "equality" ["that" erased] "in all that renders 
 the" ["plant" erased] "production valuable." 
 
 'MS. has "origin" replaced by "territorial origin." 
 
 ^MS., "a" replaced by "the." 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley omit " some." 
 _ «MS. replaces "some" with "a"; Bro. J. and Bentley 
 give it " some." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. n 
 
 education have taken place' in Europe. Wlien I 
 speak of the "earliest accounts I possess of my 
 progenitors," authentic information is meant 
 only;^ for, like other races, we have certain dark 
 legends that might possibly carry us back again 
 to the old world in quest of our estates and priv- 
 ileges. But, in writing this history, it has been 
 my determination from the first, to record noth- 
 ing but settled truths, and to reject everything in 
 the shape of vague report or unauthenticated 
 anecdote.' Under these limitations, I have ever 
 considered my family as American by origin, 
 European by emigration, and restored to its pa- 
 ternal soil by the mutations and calculations of 
 industry and trade. 
 
 The glorious family of cotemporaneous* plants 
 from which I derive my being, grew in a lovely 
 vale of Connecticut, and quite near to the banks 
 of the celebrated river of the same name. This 
 renders us strictly Yankee in our origin, an ex- 
 traction of which I find all who enjoy ' it fond of 
 boasting,' It is the only subject of self-felicita- 
 tion with which I am acquainted that men can 
 indulge in, without awakening the envy of their 
 
 1 MS. has " been " replaced by " taken place." 
 
 ^Bentley reverses it to " only meant." 
 
 ' MS. has " tradition " replaced by " anecdote." 
 
 *MS. and Bentley, "contemporaneous." 
 
 ^ Bro. J. and Bentley, "may enjoy." 
 
 "After "boasting," in MS., the following line has been 
 ruled out: "and this, too, unenvied by the rest of man- 
 kind." 
 
12 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 fellow-creatures; from which I infer it is at least 
 innocent, if not commendable. 
 
 We have traditions among us of the enjoyments 
 of our predecessors, as they rioted in the fertility 
 of their cis-atlantic field; a happy company of 
 thriving and luxuriant plants. Still, I shall pass 
 them over, merely remarking that a bountiful 
 nature has made such provision for the happiness 
 of all created things as enables each to rejoice in 
 its existence, ' and to praise, after its fashion and 
 kind, the divine Being to which it owes its crea- 
 tion.' 
 
 In due time, the field in which my forefathers 
 grew was gathered, the seed winnowed from the 
 chaff and collected in casks, when the whole 
 company was shipped for Ireland. Now occurred 
 one of those chances which decide the fortunes 
 of plants, as well as those of men, giving me a 
 claim to Norman, instead of Milesian descent. 
 The embarkation, or shipment of my ^ progeni- 
 tors, whichever may be the proper expression, 
 occurred in the height of the last^ general war, 
 and, for a novelty, it occurred in an English ship. 
 A French privateer captured the vessel on her 
 passage home, the flax-seed was condemned and 
 sold, my ancestors being transferred in a body to 
 
 ^ As in MS. and Graham ; Bro. J. and Bentley transpose 
 "existence and " creation." 
 
 ^Bro. J. and Bentley omit "my." 
 ' MS. has " late " replaced by " last." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 13 
 
 the ownership of a certain agriculturist in the 
 neighborhood of Evreux, who dealt largely in 
 such articles. There have been evil-disposed 
 vegetables that have seen fit to reproach us with 
 this sale as a stigma on our family history, but I 
 have ever considered it myself as a circumstance' 
 of which one has no more reason to be ashamed 
 than a D'Uzes^ has to blush for the robberies of 
 a baron'' of the middle ages. Each is an incident 
 in the progress of civilization; the man and the 
 vegetable alike taking the direction pointed out by 
 Providence for the fulfilment of his or its des- 
 tiny. 
 
 Plants have sensation as well as animals. The* 
 latter, however, have no consciousness anterior to 
 their physical births, and very little, indeed, for 
 some time afterwards; whereas a different law 
 prevails as respects us; our mentaP conformation 
 being such as to enable us to refer' our moral 
 existence to a period that embraces the experi- 
 ence, reasoning and sentiments of several genera- 
 tions. As respects logical inductions, for instance, 
 the Linunt Usitatissimum draws as largely on the 
 
 'MS. has "an incident" replaced by " a circumstance 
 of which." 
 
 'This name bothered Graham's compositor, he setting it 
 up as " d'loz6"; 'and he insisted upon turning a " baron " 
 into a " barn." 
 
 *MS. has "As the" replaced by "The." 
 
 'MS. has "moral" and " date " replaced by " mental " 
 and ' ' refer. ' ' 
 
14 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 intellectual acquisitions of the various epochas'that 
 belonged^ to the three or four parent stems which 
 preceded it, as on its own. In a word, that accu- 
 mulated knowledge which man inherits by means 
 of books, imparted and transmitted information, 
 schools, colleges and universities, we obtain 
 through more° subtle agencies that are incorpo- 
 rated with our organic construction, and which 
 form a species* of hereditary mesmerism; a vege- 
 table clairvoyance that enables us to see with the 
 eyes, hear with the ears, and digest with the 
 understandings of our predecessors. 
 
 Some of the happiest moments of my moral 
 existence were thus obtained, while' our family 
 was growing in the fields of Normandy. It hap- 
 pened that a distinguished astronomer selected a 
 beautiful seat, that was placed on the very margin 
 of our position, as a favorite spot for his observa- 
 tions and discourses; from a recollection of the 
 latter of which, in particular, I still derive inde- 
 scribable satisfaction. It seems as only yesterday 
 — it is in fact fourteen long, long years — that I 
 heard him thus holding forth to his pupils, 
 explaining the marvels of the illimitable void, 
 
 ' The MS. has two words, "plants," and " stems," crossed 
 out and replaced by "epochas," while Bro. J. gives it 
 " epoches " and Bentley " epochs." 
 
 ^MS. has "belonged to" replacing "produced." 
 
 ' MS., " the more " replaced by " more." 
 
 *Bro. J., " specie." 
 
 ' MS., " through " replaced by " while our." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 15 
 
 and rendering clear to my understanding the vast 
 distance that exists between the Being that created 
 all things and the works of His hands. To those 
 who live in the narrow circle of human interests 
 and human feelings, there ever exist, unheeded, 
 almost unnoticed, before their very eyes, the most 
 humbling proofs of their own comparative insig- 
 nificance in the scale of creation, which, in the 
 midst of their admitted mastery over the earth 
 and all it contains, it would be well for them to 
 consider, if they would obtain just views' of what 
 they are and what they were intended to be. 
 
 I think I can still hear this learned and devout 
 man — for his soul was filled with devotion to^ the 
 dread Being that could hold a universe in subjec- 
 tion to His will — dwelling with delight on all the 
 discoveries among the heavenly bodies, that the 
 recent improvement in science and mechanics 
 have enabled the astronomers to make. Fortu- 
 nately, he gave his discourses somewhat of the 
 progressive character of lectures, leading his lis- 
 teners on, as it might be step by step, in a way to 
 render all easy to the commonest understanding. 
 Thus it was, I first got accurate notions of the 
 almost inconceivable magnitude of space, to which, 
 indeed, it is probable there are no more positive 
 limits than there are a beginning and an end to 
 
 ^ MS., " considerations " replaced by " views." 
 2 Bro. J. and Bentley, "of." 
 
l6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 eternity! Can these wonders' be, I thought — 
 and how pitiful in those who affect to reduce all 
 things to the level of their own powers of com- 
 prehension, and their own experience in practice! 
 Let them exercise their sublime and boasted rea- 
 son, I said to myself, in endeavoring to compre- 
 hend infinity in anything, and we will note the 
 result! If it be in space, we shall find them set- 
 ting bounds to their illimitable void, until ashamed 
 of the feebleness of their first effort, it is renewed, 
 again and again, only to furnish new proofs of the 
 insufficiency of alP of earth, even to bring within 
 the compass of their imaginations truths that all 
 their experiments, inductions, evidence and reve- 
 lations compel them to admit. 
 
 " The moon has no atmosphere," said our 
 astronomer, one day, " and if inhabited at all, it 
 must be by beings constructed altogether differ- 
 ently from ourselves. Nothing that has life, 
 either animal or vegetable as we know them, can 
 exist without air, and it follows that nothing hav- 
 ing life, according to our views of it, can exist in 
 the moon; or, if anything having life does' exist 
 there, it must be under such modifications of all 
 our known facts,* as to amount to something like 
 other principles of being." " One side of that 
 
 ' MS., " things " replaced by " wonders." 
 
 ^ Bro. J. and Bentley, "any." 
 
 'MS. has "if they do " replaced by " if anything having 
 life does." 
 
 *MS., "principles of existence" replaced by "facts." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 17 
 
 planet ' feels the genial warmth of the sun for a 
 fortnight, while the other is for the same period 
 without it," he continued. "That which feels the 
 sun must be a day of'' a heat so intense as to 
 render it insupportable to us, while the opposite 
 side on which the rays of the sun do not fall, 
 must be masses of ice if water exists there to be 
 congealed. But the moon has no seas, so far as 
 we can ascertain; its surface representing one of 
 strictly volcanic origin, the mountains being nu- 
 merous to a wonderful degree. Our instruments 
 enable us to perceive craters, with the inner cones 
 so common to all our own volcanoes, giving rea- 
 son to believe^ in the activity of innumerable 
 burning hills at some remote period. It is 
 scarcely necessary to say, that nothing we know 
 could live in the moon under these rapid and ex- 
 treme transitions of heat and cold, to say nothing 
 of the want of atmospheric air." I listened to 
 this with wonder, and learned to be satisfied with 
 my station. Of what moment was it to me, in 
 filling the destiny of the Linum. Usitatissimum, 
 
 ' The MS. at this stage has so many alterations that it 
 seems best to note this portion in full as it was originally 
 written: "One side of that planet moon feels the genial 
 warmth of the sun for a fortnight, while the other is never 
 without it," he continued. "That which was ice would be 
 a perpetual summer, of a heat so intense as to render it in- 
 supportable to us, while the side we never see and on which 
 the rays of the sun never fall, must be masses of ice if water 
 ever exists there to be congealed. 
 
 2Bro. J. and Bentley, "or." 
 
 'MS., "suppose" replaced by "believe." 
 
i8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 whether I grew in a soil a little more or a little 
 less fertile; whether my fibres attained the ex- 
 tremest fineness known to the manufacturer, or 
 fell a little short of this excellence. I was but a 
 speck among a myriad of other things produced 
 by the hand of the Creator, and all to conduce 
 to his own wise ends and unequaled glory. It 
 was my duty to live my time, to be content, and 
 to proclaim the praise of God within the sphere 
 assigned' to me. Could men or plants but once 
 elevate their thoughts to the vast scale of crea- 
 tion, it would teach them their own insignificance 
 so plainly, would'' so unerringly make manifest 
 the futility of complaints and the immense dis- 
 parity between time and eternity, as to render 
 the useful lesson of contentment as inevitable as 
 it is important. 
 
 I remember that our astronomer, one day, 
 spoke of the nature and magnitude of the sun. 
 The manner that he chose to render clear" to the 
 imagination of his hearers some just notions of 
 its size, though so familiar to astronomers, pro- 
 duced a deep and unexpected impression on me. 
 "Our instruments," he said, "are now so perfect 
 and powerful, as to enable us to ascertain many 
 facts of the deepest interest, with near approaches 
 to positive accuracy. The moon being the heav- 
 
 ' MS., " that was assigned " replaced by "assigned." 
 
 ^ MS., originally, "and would." 
 
 'MS., " impress on " replaced by " render clear to." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 19 
 
 enly body much the nearest to us, of course we 
 see farther into its secrets than into those of any 
 other planet. We have calculated its distance 
 from us at 237,000 miles. Of course, by doub- 
 ling this distance, and adding to it the diameter 
 of the earth, we get the diameter of the circle, or 
 orbit, in which the moon moves around the earth. 
 In other words the diameter of this orbit is about 
 480,000 miles. Now, could the sun be brought 
 in contact with this orbit, and had the latter so- 
 lidity to mark its circumference, it would be found 
 that this circumference would include but a little 
 more than half the surface of one side of the sun, 
 the diameter < of which orb is calculated to be 
 882,000 miles! The sun is one million, three 
 hundred and eighty-four thousand, four hun- 
 dred and seventy-two' times larger than the 
 earth. Of the substance of the sun it is not so 
 easy to speak. Still it is thought, though it is 
 not certain, that we occasionally see the actual 
 surface of this orb, an advantage we do not pos- 
 sess as respects any other of the heavenly bodies, 
 with the exception of the Moon and Mars. The 
 light and warmth of the sun probably^ exist in 
 its atmosphere, and the spots which are so often 
 seen on this bright orb, are supposed to be 
 glimpses of the solid mass of the sun " itself, that 
 
 1 Bentley, "1,384,472." 
 
 » MS., " only " replaced by " probably." 
 
 • MS. , originally , " planet. ' ' 
 
20 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 are occasionally obtained through openings in 
 this atmosphere. At all events this is the more 
 consistent way of accounting for the appearance 
 of these spots. You will get a better idea of the 
 magnitude of the sidereal system, however, by re- 
 membering that, in comparison with it, the dis- 
 tances of our entire solar system are as mere 
 specks. Thus, while our own change of posi- 
 tions is known to embrace an orbit of about 
 200,000,000' of miles, it is nevertheless so tri- 
 fling as to produce no apparent change of position 
 in thousands of fixed stars that are believed to be 
 the suns of other systems. Some conjecture, 
 even, that all these suns, with their several sys- 
 tems, our own included, revolve around a com- 
 mon centre that is invisible to us, but which is 
 the actual throne^ of God; the comets that we 
 note and measure being heavenly messengers, as 
 it might be, constantly " passing from one of these 
 families of worlds to another." 
 
 I remember that one of the astronomer's pupils 
 asked certain explanations here, touching the 
 planets that it was thought, or rather known, that 
 we could actually see, and those of which the 
 true surfaces were believed to be concealed from 
 us.' "I have told you," answered the man of 
 
 ' Bentley, " 200 millions." 
 ^MS., "seat" replaced by "actual throne." 
 ^MS., "constantly" replacing "that are." 
 'MS. originally continued " at least." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 21 
 
 science, "that they are the Moon, Mars and the 
 Sun. Both Venus and Mercury are nearer to us 
 than Mars, but their relative proximities ' to the 
 sun have some such effect on their surfaces, as 
 placing an object near a strong light is known to 
 have on its appearance. '^ We are dazzled, to 
 speak popularly, ' and cannot distinguish mi- 
 nutely. With Mars it is different. If this planet* 
 has any atmosphere at all, it is one of no great 
 density, and its orbit being without our own, we 
 can easily trace on its surface the outlines of seas 
 and continents. It is even supposed that the 
 tinge of the latter is that of reddish sand-stone, 
 like much of that known in our own world, but 
 more decided in tint, while two brilliant white 
 spots, at its poles, are thought to be light re- 
 flected from the snows of those regions, rendered 
 more conspicuous, or disappearing, as they first 
 emerge from a twelve month's winter, or° melt 
 in a summer of equal duration." 
 
 I could have listened forever to this astron- 
 omer, whose lectures ^ so profoundly taught les- 
 sons of humility to the created, and which were 
 so replete with silent eulogies on the power of 
 
 ' MS., " proximity." 
 
 'MS., "surface" replaced by "appearance," 
 'MS. had originally "We are, as it might be, dazzled, 
 and cannot distinguish minutely." 
 
 ^MS. has "it" replaced by "this planet." 
 
 5 MS., "and" replaced by "or." 
 
 *MS., "lessons" replaced by "lectures," 
 
22 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 the Creator! What was it to me, whether I were 
 a modest plant, of half a cubit in stature, or the 
 proudest oak of the forest — man or vegetable? 
 My duty was clearly to glorify the dread Being 
 who had produced all these marvels, and to fulfil 
 my time in worship, praise and contentment. It 
 mattered not whether my impressions were de- 
 rived through organs called ears, and were com- 
 municated by others called those of speech, or 
 whether each function was performed by means 
 of sensations and agencies too subtle to be de- 
 tected by ordinary means. It was enough for me 
 that I heard, and understood, and felt, the good- 
 ness and the glory of God. I may say that my 
 first great lessons in true philosophy were ob- 
 tained in these lectures, where I learned to dis- 
 tinguish between the finite and the infinite, ceas- 
 ing to envy any, while I learned' to worship one. 
 The benevolence of Providence is extended to 
 alP its creatures, each receiving it in a mode 
 adapted to its own powers of improvement. My 
 destiny being toward a communion with man — or 
 rather with woman — I have ever looked upon 
 these silent communications with the astronomer 
 as so much preparatory schooling, in order that 
 my mind might be prepared for its own avenir, 
 and not be blinded by an undue appreciation of 
 the importance of its future associates. I know 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley, "inclined." 
 ^ MS., " each of " replaced by " all." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 23 
 
 there are those who will sneer at the suppo- 
 sition of a pocket handkerchief possessing any 
 mind, or esprit dX all; but let such have patience 
 and read on, when I hope it will be in my power 
 to demonstrate their error. ' 
 
 ' MS., "ignorance" replaced by "error." 
 
H 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to dwell on the scenes 
 which occurred between the time I first sprang 
 from the earth, and that in which I was "pulled." 
 The latter was a melancholy day for me, how- 
 ever, arriving prematurely as regarded my vege- 
 table state, since it was early determined that I 
 was to be spun into threads of unusual fineness. — 
 I will only say, here, that my youth was a period 
 of innocent pleasures, during which my chief de- 
 light was to exhibit my simple but beautiful 
 flowers, in honor of the hand that gave them 
 birth. 
 
 At the proper season, the whole field was laid 
 low, when a scene of hurry' and confusion suc- 
 ceeded, to which I find it exceedingly painful to 
 turn in memory. The "rotting" was the most 
 humiliating part of the process which followed, 
 though, in our case, this was done in clear run- 
 ning water, and the*" crackling" the most uncom- 
 fortable. Happily, we were spared the anguish 
 which ordinarily accompanies breaking on the 
 wheel, though we could not be said to have en- 
 tirely escaped from all its parade." Innocence 
 
 MS. alterations / ' " pain " replaced by " hurry" ; ^ " but " 
 by " though" ; ' " forms " by " parade." 
 
 24 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 25 
 
 was our shield, and, while we endured some of 
 the disgrace that attaches to mere forms, we had 
 that consolation of which no cruelty or device can 
 deprive the unoffending. ' Our sorrows were not 
 heightened'' by the consciousness of undeserving. ' 
 
 There is a period, which ^ occurred between the 
 time of being " hatcheled " and that of being 
 "woven," that it exceeds my powers to delineate. 
 All around me seemed ^ to be in a state of inex- 
 tricable confusion, out of which order finally 
 appeared in the shape of a piece of cambric, of a 
 quality that brought the workmen far'* and near to 
 visit it. We were a single family' of only twelve, 
 in this rare fabric, among which I remember that 
 I occupied the seventh place in the order of 
 arrangement, and, of course, in the order of senior- 
 ity also. When properly folded, and bestowed 
 in a comfortable covering, our time passed pleas- 
 antly enough, being removed from all disagreeable 
 sights and smells,' and lodged in a place of great 
 security, and indeed of honor, men seldom failing 
 to bestow this attention on their valuables. 
 
 It is out of my power to say precisely how long 
 we remained in this passive state in the hands of 
 
 MS. alterations: 'Originally "the deserving," first re- 
 placed by "mankind who do not deserve this fate," and 
 finally by " the unoffending " ; ^ " lessened " replaced by 
 "not heightened"; 'before "undeserving" was originally 
 written "guilt"; •'"that" replaced by " which " ; ' "ap- 
 peared " by " seemed " ; « " from far " by " far " ; '"fam- 
 ily" by "single family"; ^"unpleasant smells" by 
 "disagreeable sights and smells. " 
 
26 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 the manufacturer. It was some weeks, however, 
 if not months; during which our chief communi- 
 cations were on the chances of our future fortunes. 
 Some of our number were ambitious, and would 
 hear to nothing but the probability, nay, the cer- 
 tainty, of our being purchased, as soon as our 
 arrival in Paris should be made known, by the 
 king, in person, and presented to the Dauphine, 
 then the first lady in France. The virtues of the 
 Duchesse d'Angouleme were properly appreciated 
 by some of us,' Vr^hile I discovered that others 
 entertained for her any feelings but those of ven- 
 eration and respect. This diversity of opinion, 
 on a subject of ^ which one would think none of 
 us very^ well qualified to be judges, was owing to 
 a circumstance of such everyday occurrence as 
 almost to supersede the necessity of telling it, 
 though the narrative would be rendered* more 
 complete by an explanation. 
 
 It happened, while we lay in the bleaching 
 grounds, that one-half of the piece extended into 
 a part of the field that came under the manage- 
 ment of a legitimist, while the other invaded the 
 dominions of a liberal. Neither of these persons 
 had any concern with us, we being under the 
 special superintendence of the head workman, but 
 
 MS. alterations: ' "were well known to some" replaced 
 by " properly appreciated by some" ; 'originally "in," then 
 "with," finally "of"; * " were very" replaced by "very"; 
 *" rendered" was an after-insertion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 
 
 27 
 
 it was impossible, altogether impossible,' to escape 
 the consequences of our locales. While the legiti- 
 mist read nothing but the Moniteur, the liberaP 
 read nothing but Le Temps, a journal then recently 
 established, in the supposed interests of human 
 freedom. Each of these individuals got a paper 
 at a certain hour, which he read with as much 
 manner as he could command, and with singular 
 perseverance as related to the difficulties to be 
 overcome, to a clientele of bleachers, who reasoned 
 as he reasoned, swore by his oaths, and finally 
 arrived at' all his conclusions. The liberals had 
 the best of it as to numbers, and possibly as to 
 wit, the Moniteur possessing all the dullness of 
 official dignity under all the dynasties and minis- 
 tries * that have governed France since its estab- 
 lishment. My business, however, is with the 
 effect produced on the pocket-handkerchiefs, and 
 not with^ that produced on the laborers. The two 
 extremes were regular coth gauches and coth droits. 
 In other words, all at the right end of the piece 
 became devoted Bourbonists, devoutly believing 
 that princes, who were daily mentioned with so 
 much reverence and respect, could be nothing else 
 but perfect; while the opposite extreme were dis- 
 
 ' MS., this " impossible " is an after-insertion. 
 ^Bro. J. and Bentley, "liberals." 
 2 MS., "reached" replaced by " finally arrived at." 
 *MS., "and ministries" an after-insertion. 
 'MS., "on" replaced by "with." 
 
28 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 posed to think that nothing good could come of 
 Nazareth. In this way, four ' of our number 
 became decided politicians, not only entertaining 
 a sovereign contempt for the sides they respec- 
 tively opposed, but beginning to feel sensations 
 approaching to hatred for each other. 
 
 The reader will readily understand that these 
 feelings lessened toward the center of the piece^ 
 acquiring most intensity at^ the extremes. I may 
 be said, myself, to have belonged to the center 
 gauche, that being my accidental position in the 
 fabric, where it was a natural consequence to 
 obtain sentiments of this shade. It will be seen, 
 in the end, how permanent^ were these early 
 impressions, and how far it is worth while for 
 mere pocket-handkerchiefs to throw away their 
 time, and permit* their feelings to become excited 
 concerning interests that they are certainly not 
 destined to control, and about which, under the 
 most favorable circumstances, they seldom obtain 
 other than very^ questionable information. 
 
 It followed, from this state of feeling, that the 
 notion we were about to fall into the hands of 
 the unfortunate daughter of Louis XVI excited 
 considerable commotion and disgust among us. 
 
 'MS., "two" replaced by "four." 
 ^MS., "towards" replaced by "at." 
 'Graham's, " prominent." 
 ^ Bro. J. and Bentley, " to permit." 
 'MS., "the most" replaced by "very." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 29 
 
 Though very moderate in my' political antipathies 
 and predilections, I confess to some excitement 
 in my own case, declaring that, if royalty was to 
 be my lot, I would prefer not to ascend any 
 higher on '' the scale than to become the property 
 of that excellent princess, AtnJlie, who then pre- 
 sided in the Palais Royal, the daughter and sister 
 of a king, but with as little prospects as desires of 
 becoming a queen in her own person. This wish 
 of mine was treated as groveling, and even worse 
 than republican, by the cot^ droit of our piece, while 
 the cotd gauche sneered at it, as manifesting a 
 sneaking regard for station without the spirit to 
 avow it. Both were mistaken, however; no un- 
 worthy sentiments entering into my decision. 
 Accident had made me acquainted with the virtues 
 of this estimable woman, and I felt assured that 
 she would treat even a pocket-handkerchief kindly. 
 This early' opinion has been confirmed by her 
 deportment under very trying and unexpected 
 events. I wish, as I believe she wishes, herself, 
 she had never been a queen. 
 
 All* our family did not aspire as high as roy- 
 alty. Some looked forward to the glories of a 
 banker's daughter's trousseau, — we all understood 
 that our price would be too high, for any of the 
 old nobility, — while some even fancied that the 
 
 'MS., originally, "my own." 
 
 2 Bentley, " in." 
 
 ' MS., " early " was an after-insertion. 
 
 <MS., oriKinally, "But all." 
 
3° 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 happiness of travelling in company was reserved 
 for us, before we should be called regularly to 
 enter on the duties of life. As we were so closely 
 connected, and, on the whole, were affectionate 
 as became brothers and sisters, it was the com- 
 mon wish that we might not be separated, but go 
 together into the same wardrobe, let it be foreign 
 or domestic, that of prince or plebeian. There 
 were a few among us who spoke of the Duchesse 
 de Berri as our future mistress; but the notion 
 prevailed that we should so soon pass into the 
 hands of a femme de chambre, as to render the 
 selection little desirable. In the end we wisely 
 and philosophically determined to await the re- 
 sult with patience, well knowing that we were 
 altogether in the hands of caprice and fashion. 
 
 At length the happy moment arrived when we 
 were to quit the warehouse of the manufacturer. 
 Let what would happen, this was a source of joy, 
 inasmuch as we all knew that we could only 
 vegetate while we continued where we then were, 
 and that, too, without experiencing the delights 
 of our former position, with good roots in the 
 earth, a genial sun shedding its warmth upon our 
 bosoms' and balmy airs fanning our cheeks. We 
 loved change, too, like other people, and had 
 probably^ seen enough of vegetation, whether fig- 
 urative or real, to satisfy us. Our departure 
 
 'Graham, "bosom." 
 
 ^MS., "probably" and "to satisfy us" are after-in- 
 sertions. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 31 
 
 from Picardie took place in June, 1830, and we 
 reached Paris on the first day of the succeeding 
 month. We went through the formalities of the 
 custom-houses, or barrieres^ the same day, and 
 the next morning we^ were all transferred^ to a 
 celebrated shop that dealt in articles of our genus. 
 Most of the goods were sent on drays to the 
 magazin, but our reputation having preceded us, 
 we were honored with di fiacre, making the journey 
 between* the Douane and* the shop on the knee 
 of a confidential commissio?iaire . 
 
 Great was the satisfaction of our little party as 
 we first drove through^ the streets of this capital 
 of Europe — the centre of fashion and the abode of 
 elegance. Our natures had adapted themselves to 
 circumstances and we no longer pined for the lux- 
 uries of the Linum Usitatissimum, but were ready to 
 enter into all the pleasures of our new existence; 
 which we well understood was to be one of pure 
 parade, for no handkerchief of our quality was 
 ever employed on any of the more menial offices 
 of the profession. We might occasionally brush 
 a lady's cheek, or conceal a blush or a smile, but 
 
 1 Graham , " bassih-es. ' ' 
 
 ^MS. and Graham; Bro. J. and Bentley omit the "we." 
 'MS., all that follows "transferred," viz., "to a cele- 
 brated shop that dealt in articles of our genus," replaces 
 " Chez Delille, No. . . . rue." 
 
 *MS., "between . . . and" replaces "from . . . to." 
 *MS., "drove through"; Graham, "drove down 
 through"; Bro. J. and Bentley, "drove along through." 
 
32 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 the usitaiissimum had been left behind us in the 
 fields. The fiacre stopped at the door of a cele- 
 brated perfumer, and the commissionaire, deeming us 
 of too much value to be left on a carriage seat, took 
 us in her hand while she negotiated a small affair 
 with its mistress.' This was our introduction to 
 the pleasant association of sweet odors, with^ 
 which it was to be our fortune to enjoy'' in future 
 the most delicate and judicious communion. We 
 knew very well that things of this sort were con- 
 sidered vulgar unless of the purest quality and 
 used with the tact of good society; but still it was 
 permitted to sprinkle a very little lavendar or ex- 
 quisite eau de cologne on a pocket-handkerchief. 
 The odor of these two scents, therefore, appeared 
 quite natural to us; and as Madame Savon never 
 allowed any perfume, or articles (as these things 
 are technically termed), of inferior quality to 
 pollute her shop, we had no scruples about in- 
 haling the delightful fragrance that breathed in 
 the place. D^sir^e* the coinmissionaire , could not 
 depart without permitting her friend, Madame^ 
 Savon, to feast her eyes on the treasure in her 
 own hands. The handkerchiefs were unfolded 
 
 'MS., "the mistress of the shop" replaced by " its mis- 
 tress. " 
 
 'Graham, "of," which was also originally in the MS. 
 'MS. has "revel" replaced by "enjoy." 
 ^Graham's compositor fumbles at it thus: " DisirH." 
 'MS. has it " Mad." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 33 
 
 and,' amidst a hundred Dieux! dels! and dames!'^ 
 our fineness and beauty were extolled in a man- 
 ner that was perfectly gratifying to the self-esteem 
 of the whole family. Madame Savon imagined 
 that even her perfumes would be more fragrant 
 in such company, and she insisted on letting one 
 drop — a single drop — of her eau de cologne fall 
 on the beautiful texture. I was the happy hand- 
 kerchief that was thus favored, and long did I 
 riot in that delightful odor, which was just strong 
 enough to fill the air with sensations, rather than 
 impressions, of all that is sweet and womanly in 
 the female wardrobe. 
 
 'The MS. alone has the "and," the printed versions all 
 omitting it, while Bro. J. and Bentley end the sentence with 
 " dames." 
 
 ^Graham, "I'amis!" 
 
34 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Notwithstanding this' accidental introduction 
 to one of the nicest distinctions of good society, 
 and the general exhilaration that prevailed in our 
 party, I was far from being perfectly happy. To 
 own the truth, I had left my heart in Picardie. 
 I do not say I was in love; I am far from certain 
 that there is any precedent for a pocket-handker- 
 chief's being in love at all, and I am quite sure 
 that the sensations I experienced were different 
 from those I have since had frequent occasion to 
 hear described. The circumstances which called 
 them forth were as follows: 
 
 The manufactory in which our family was fab- 
 ricated was formerly known as the Chateau de la 
 Rocheaimard and had been the property of the 
 Vicomte de la Rocheaimard previously to the 
 revolution that overturned the throne of Louis 
 XVI. The Vicomte and his wife joined the roy- 
 alists at Coblentz, and the former, with his only 
 son, Adrien de la Rocheaimard, or the Chevalier 
 de la Rocheaimard, as he was usually termed, had 
 joined the allies in their attempted invasion on 
 the soil of France. The Vicomte, a mar^chal du 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley, "my." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 35 
 
 camp, had fallen in battle, but the son escaped 
 and passed his youth in exile; marrying, a few 
 years later, a cousin, whose fortunes were at as 
 low an ebb as his own. One child, Adrienne, was 
 the sole issue of this marriage, having been born 
 in the year 18 10. Both the parents died before 
 the Restoration, leaving the little girl to the care 
 of her pious grandmother, la Vicomtesse, who sur- 
 vived, in a feeble old age, to descant on the 
 former grandeur of her house, and to sigh, in 
 common with so many others, for le bon vieux 
 temps. At the Restoration there was' some diffi- 
 culty in establishing the right of the de la 
 Rocheaimards^ to their share of the indemnity; 
 a difficulty I never heard explained, but which 
 was probably owing to the circumstance that 
 there were none' in particular to interest them- 
 selves in the matter but an old woman of sixty- 
 five and a little girl of four. Such appellants, 
 unsupported by money, interest or power, seldom 
 make out a very strong case for reparation of any 
 sort, in this righteous world of ours; and, had it 
 not been for the goodness of the Dauphine, it is 
 probable that the Vicomtesse and her grand- 
 daughter would have been reduced to downright 
 beggary. But the daughter of the late King got 
 intelligence of the necessities of the two descend- 
 
 iMS., originally, " was found." 
 
 'MS., " de Rocheaimards " ; Graham, " De Roche- 
 aimards"; Bro. J. and Bentley, " de la Rocheaimards." 
 *MS., Graham and Bro. J., "there was no one." 
 
36 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 ants of Crusaders, and a pension of two thousand' 
 francs a year was granted, en attetidant. 
 
 Four hundred dollars a year does not appear a 
 large sum, even to the nouveaux riches of America, 
 but it sufficed to give Adrienne and her grand- 
 mother a comfortable, and even a respectable, 
 subsistence in the provinces. It was impossible 
 for them to inhabit the chateau, now converted 
 into a workshop and filled with machinery, but 
 lodgings were procured in its immediate vicinity. 
 Here"* Madame de la Rocheaimard whiled' away 
 the close of a varied and troubled life; if not in 
 absolute peace, still not in absolute misery, while 
 her granddaughter grew into young womanhood, 
 a miracle of goodness and pious devotion to her 
 sole surviving parent. The strength of the family 
 tie in France, and its comparative weakness in 
 America, have ' been the subject of frequent com- 
 ment among travelers. I do not know that all 
 which has been said is rigidly just, but I am 
 inclined^ to think that much of it is, and, as I am 
 writing to Americans, and of French people, now," 
 I see no particular reason why the fact should be 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley, "hundred"! 
 
 2 MS., originally, " And here." 
 
 ,^ MS., " sighed " replaced by " whiled." 
 
 ^MS., Graham and Bro. J., " has " ; Bentley, " have." 
 
 ^Bentley, "much inclined." 
 
 'MS. and Graham; in Bro. J. and Bentley the "now" 
 is shifted and precedes " writing," making it " now writing 
 to Americans. " 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 37 
 
 concealed. Respect for years, deference to the 
 authors of their' being, and submission to parental 
 authority, are inculcated equally by the morals 
 and the laws of France. The coiiseiles de familte 
 is a beautiful and wise provision of the national 
 code, and aids greatly in maintaining that system 
 of patriarchal rule, which lies at the foundation of 
 the whole social structure. Alas! in the case of 
 the excellent Adrienne, this conseile de famille was 
 easily assembled, and possessed perfect unanimity. 
 The wars, the guillotine, and exile had reduced it 
 to two, one of which was despotic in her govern- 
 ment, so far as theory was concerned at least; 
 possibly, at times, a little so in practice.^ Still 
 Adrienne, on the whole, grew up tolerably happy. 
 She was taught most that is suitable for a gentle- 
 woman, without being crammed with superfluous 
 accomplishments, and, aided by the good cur^, a 
 man who remembered her grandfather, had both 
 polished and stored her mind. Her manners were 
 of the'' excellent tone that distinguished the good 
 society of Paris before the Revolution, being 
 natural, quiet, simple and considerate. She sel- 
 dom laughed, I fear; but her smiles were sweet- 
 ness and benevolence itself. 
 
 The bleaching grounds of our manufactory 
 
 'MS., originally, "our." 
 
 ^MS., originally this portion read: "was concerned and 
 sometimes a little so in her practice." 
 ^MS. , originally, "an." 
 
38 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 were in the old park of the chateau. Thither 
 Madame de la Rocheaimard was fond of coming, 
 in the fine mornings of June, for many of the 
 roses and lovely Persian lilacs that once abounded 
 there still remained. I first saw Adrienne in one 
 of these visits, the quality of our little family 
 circle attracting her attention. One of the bleach- 
 ers, indeed, was an old servant of the Vicomte's,' 
 and it was a source of pleasure to him to point 
 out anything to the ladies, that he thought might 
 prove interesting.^ This was the man who so 
 diligently' read the Moniteur, giving a religious 
 credence to all it contained. He fancied no hand 
 so worthy to hold fabrics of such exquisite fine- 
 ness as that of Mademoiselle Adrienne, and it was 
 through his assiduity that I had the honor of 
 being first placed within the gentle pressure of 
 her beautiful little fingers. This occurred about 
 a month before our departure for Paris. 
 
 Adrienne de la Rocheaimard was then just 
 twenty. Her beauty was of a* character that is 
 not common in France; but which, when it does 
 exist, is nowhere surpassed. She was slight and 
 delicate in person, of fair hair and complexion, 
 and with the meekest and most dove-like blue 
 eyes I ever saw in a female^ face. Her smile, too, 
 
 MS. alterations: 'In place of "Vicomte's," Mr. Cooper 
 originally started to write "family"; ^originally "might 
 interest them"; ^ " who always" replaced by "who so 
 diligently " ; '' " that " replaced by "a." 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley, "in female." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 39 
 
 was of so winning and gentle a nature, as to 
 announce a disposition pregnant with all the affec- 
 tions. Still it was well understood that Adrienne 
 was not likely to marry, her birth raising her 
 above all intentions of connecting her ancient 
 name with mere gold, while her poverty placed 
 an almost insuperable barrier between her and 
 most of the impoverished young men of rank 
 whom she occasionally saw. Even the power 
 of the Dauphine was not sufficient to provide 
 Adrienne de la Rocheaimard with a suitable 
 husband. But of this the charming girl never 
 thought; she lived more for her grandmother than 
 for herself, and so long as that venerated relative, 
 almost the only one that remained to her on 
 earth, did not suffer or repine, she herself could 
 be comparatively happy. 
 
 "Dans lebon vieux temps," said the Vicomtesse, 
 examining me through her spectacles, and ' ad- 
 dressing Georges, who stood, hat in hand, to 
 hearken to her wisdom; ^ " dans le bon vieux temps, 
 mon ami, the ladies of the chateau did not want 
 for^ these things. There were six dozen in my 
 corbeille, that were almost as fine as this; as* for 
 the trousseau, I believe it had twice the number, 
 but very little inferior." 
 
 ^MS., "and" is an after-insertion. 
 ^ MS., originally, "words." 
 
 'Bro. J. and Bentley omit "for," giving a meaning 
 entirely contrary to that of the text. 
 ^MS., originally, "and, as." 
 
40 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 "I remember that Madame" — Georges always 
 gave his old mistress this title of honor — "kept 
 many of the beautiful garments of her trousseau 
 untouched, down to the melancholy period of the 
 Revolution." 
 
 "It has been a mine of wealth to me, Georges, 
 in behalf of that dear child. You may remember 
 that this trousseau was kept in the old armoire, on 
 the right hand side of the little door of my dress- 
 ing room — " 
 
 "Madame la Vicomtesse will have the good- 
 ness to pardon me — it was on the left hand side 
 of the room — Monsieur's medals were kept in the 
 opposite armoire." 
 
 "Our good Georges is right, Adrienne! — he 
 has a memory! Your grandfather insisted on 
 keeping his medals in my dressing room, as he 
 says. Well, Monsieur Georges, left or right, 
 there I left the remains of ' my trousseau when I 
 fled from France, and there I found it untouched 
 on my return. The manufactory had saved the 
 chateau, and the manufacturers had spared my 
 wardrobe. Its sale, and its materials, have done 
 much toward rendering that dear child respectable 
 and well clad, since our return." 
 
 I thought the slight color, which usually 
 adorned the fair oval cheeks of Adrienne, deep- 
 ened a little at this remark, and I certainly felt a 
 little tremor in the hand which held me; but it 
 
 'MS., " the remains of" is an after-insertion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 
 
 4' 
 
 could not have been shame, as the sweet girl 
 often alluded to her poverty in a way so simple 
 and natural, as to prove that she had no false 
 feelings on that subject. And why should she? 
 Poverty ordinarily causes no such sensations to 
 those who are conscious of possessing advantages 
 of an order superior to wealth; and surely a well- 
 educated, well-born, virtuous girl, need not have 
 blushed because estates were torn from her par- 
 ents by a political convulsion that had overturned 
 an ancient and powerful throne. 
 
42 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 From this time the charming Adrienne fre- 
 quently visited the bleaching grounds, always ac- 
 companied by her grandmother. The presence 
 of Georges was an excuse, but to watch the im- 
 provement in our appearance was the reason.' 
 Never before had Adrienne seen a fabric as beau- 
 tiful as our own, and, as I afterwards discovered, 
 she was laying by a few francs with the intention 
 of purchasing the piece, and of working and orna- 
 menting^ the handkerchiefs in order to present 
 them to her benefactress, the Dauphine. Mad- 
 ame ^ de la Rocheaimard was pleased with this 
 project; it was becoming in a de la Rocheaimard; 
 and they soon began to speak of it openly in 
 their visits. Fifteen or twenty napoleons might 
 do it, and the remains of the recovered trousseau 
 would still produce that sum. It is probable this 
 intention would have been carried out, but for a 
 severe illness that attacked the dear girl, during 
 which her life was even despaired of. I had the 
 happiness of hearing of her gradual recovery, 
 however, before we commenced our journey, 
 though no more was said of the purchase. Per- 
 
 'MS., originally, " real reason." 
 
 MS. alterations: ''"and ornamenting" is an after-in- 
 sertion; ^"Mad." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 43 
 
 haps it was as well as it was; for, by this time, 
 such a feeling existed in our extreme coU 
 gauche, that it may be questioned if the handker- 
 chiefs of that end of the piece ' would have be- 
 haved themselves in the wardrobe of the Dau- 
 phine with the discretion and prudence that are 
 expected from everything around the person of a 
 princess of her exalted rank and excellent char- 
 acter. It is true, none ot us understood the ques- 
 tions at issue; but that only made the matter 
 worse; the violence of all dissensions being very 
 generally in proportion to the ignorance and con- 
 sequent confidence of the disputants. 
 
 I could not but remember Adrienne, as the 
 commissionaire laid us down before the eyes of the 
 wife of the head of the firm, in the rue de — — . 
 We were carefully examined, and pronounced 
 "parfaits"; stilP it was not in the sweet tones, and 
 with the sweeter smiles of the polished and gentle 
 girl we had left in Picardie. There was a senti- 
 ment in her admiration that touched all our 
 hearts, even to the most exaggerated republican 
 among us, for she seemed to go deeper in her ex- 
 amination of merits than the mere texture and 
 price. She saw her offering in our beauty, the 
 benevolence of the Dauphine in our softness, her 
 own gratitude in our exquisite fineness, and 
 princely munificence in our delicacy. In a word, 
 
 ' MS., " of the piece " an after-insertion. 
 ^MS., originally, "but." 
 
44 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 she could enter into the sentiment of a pocket- 
 handkerchief. Alas! how different was the esti- 
 mation in which we were held by Disirde'- and 
 her employers. With them, it was purely a ques- 
 tion of francs, and we had not been in the magasin 
 five minutes, when there was a lively dispute 
 whether we were to be put at a certain number of 
 napoleons, or one napoleon more. A good deal 
 was said about Madame la Duchesse, and I found ^ 
 it was expected that a certain lady of that rank, 
 one ' who had enjoyed the extraordinary luck of 
 retaining her fortune, being of an old and histor- 
 ical family, and who was * at the head of fashion 
 in "Cae. faubourg, would bacome the purchaser. At 
 all events, it was determined no one should see 
 us, until this lady returned to town, she being at 
 the moment at Rosny, with Madame, whence she 
 was expected to accompany that princess to 
 Dieppe, to come back to her hotel, in the rue de 
 Bourbon, about the last of October. Here, then, 
 were we doomed to three months of total seclu- 
 sion in the heart of the gayest capital of Europe. 
 It was useless to repine, and we determined 
 among ourselves to exercise patience in the best 
 manner we could. 
 
 ' Graham, evolving "DisirS " on page 32, now improves(?) 
 it into "DesirS." 
 
 2 MS., originally, "then found that"; Graham retains 
 the " that." 
 
 " MS., originally, " and one." 
 
 ■■MS., " who was " is an after-insertion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 45 
 
 Accordingly, we were safely deposited in a par- 
 ticular drawer, along with a few other favorite 
 articles, that, like our family, were reserved for 
 the eyes of certain distinguished but absent cus- 
 tomers. These spicialtih in trade are of frequent 
 occurrence in Paris, and form a pleasant bond of 
 union between the buyer and seller, which gives 
 a particular zest to this sort of commerce, and, 
 not unfrequently, a particular value to goods. 
 To see that which no one else has seen, and to 
 own that which no one else can own, are equally 
 agreeable, and delightfully exclusive. All' 
 minds that do not possess the natural sources ^ of 
 exclusion, are fond of creating them by means of 
 a subordinate and more artificial character. 
 
 On the whole, I think we enjoyed^ our new 
 situation, rather than otherwise. The drawer was 
 never opened, it is true, but that next it was in 
 constant use, and certain crevices beneath the 
 counter * enabled us to see a little, and to hear 
 more, of what passed in the magasin. We were 
 in a part of the shop most frequented by ladies, 
 and we overheard a few tete-a-tetes that were not 
 without amusement. These generally related to 
 cancans. Paris is a town in which cancans do not 
 usually flourish, their proper theater being pro- 
 vincial and trading places, beyond a question;^ 
 
 MS. alterations: 'Originally "and all"; ^ " legitimate 
 means" replaced by "natural sources"; "originally 
 " rather enjoyed " ; * orx^WiaXXy , " comptoir ' ' ; '" beyond a 
 question " is an after-insertion. 
 
46 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 still there arecaftcans at Paris; for all sorts of per- 
 sons frequent that center of civilization. The 
 only difference is, that in the social' pictures 
 offered by what are called cities, the cancatis are in 
 the strongest light, and in the most conspicuous 
 of the grouping; whereas in Paris they are kept in 
 shadow, and in the background. Still there are 
 cancans at Paris; ^ and cancans we overheard, and 
 precisely in the manner I have related. Did pretty 
 ladies remember that pocket-handkerchiefs have 
 ears, they might possibly have more reserve in the 
 indulgence of this extraordinary propensity.' 
 
 We had been near a month in the drawer, when 
 I recognized a female voice near us, that I had 
 often heard of late, speaking in a confident and 
 decided tone, and making allusions that showed 
 she belonged to the court. I presume her posi- 
 tion there was not of the most exalted kind, yet 
 it was sufficiently so to qualify her, in her own 
 estimation, to talk politics. "Z« ordonnances" 
 were in her mouth constantly, and it was easy to 
 perceive that she attached the greatest importance 
 to these ordinances, whatever they were, and 
 fancied a political millennium was near. The shop 
 was frequented less than usual that day; the next 
 it* was worse still, in the way of business, and the 
 clerks began to talk loud, also,^ about les ordon- 
 
 MS. alterations: '"social" and ^ " at Paris" are after- 
 insertions; 'originally "this propensity to cancans"; 
 *"it" and '" also " are after-insertions. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 47 
 
 nances. The following morning neither windows 
 nor doors were opened, and we passed a gloomy 
 time of uncertainty and conjecture. There were 
 ominous sounds in the streets. Some ' of us 
 thought we heard the roar of distant artillery. 
 At length the master and mistress appeared by 
 themselves in the shop; money and papers were 
 secured, and the female was just retiring to an 
 inner room, when she suddenly came back to the 
 counter,^ opened our drawer, seized us with no 
 very reverent hands, and, the next thing we knew, 
 the whole twelve of us^ were thrust into a trunk 
 upstairs, and buried in Egyptian darkness. From 
 that moment all traces of what was occurring in 
 the streets of Paris were lost to us. After all, it 
 is not so very disagreeable to be pocket-handker- 
 chiefs * in a revolution. 
 
 Our imprisonment lasted until the following 
 December. As our feelings had become excited 
 on the questions of the day, as well as those of 
 other irrational beings around us, we might have 
 passed a most uncomfortable time in the trunk, 
 but for one circumstance. So great had been the 
 hurry of our mistress in thus shutting us up, that 
 we had been crammed in in a way to leave it 
 impossible to say which was the coti droit, and 
 which the coti gauche. Thus completely deranged 
 
 M S. alterations : 'Originally "And some"; ^originally 
 '■ comptoir ; " ' " of us " is an after-insertion. 
 
 *Bro. J. and Bentley, "to be only a pocket-handker- 
 chief." 
 
48 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 as parties, we took to discussing philosophical 
 matters in general; an occupation well adapted to 
 a situation that ' required so great an exercise of 
 the quality.^ 
 
 One day, when we least expected so great a 
 change, our mistress came in person, searched 
 several chests, trunks and drawers, and finally 
 discovered us where she had laid us, with her own 
 hands, near four months before. It seems that, 
 in her hurry and fright, she had actually forgotten 
 in what nook we had been concealed. We were 
 smoothed with care, our political order re-estab- 
 lished," and then we were taken below and restored 
 to the dignity of the select circle in the drawer 
 already mentioned. This was like removing to a 
 fashionable square, or living in a beau quartier of a 
 capital. It was even* better than removing from 
 East Broadway into bona fide, real, unequaled, 
 league-long, eighty feet wide, Broadway! 
 
 We now had an opportunity of learning some 
 of the great events that had recently occurred in 
 France, and which still troubled Europe. The 
 Bourbons were again dethroned, as it was termed, 
 and another Bourbon seated in their place. It 
 would seem il y a Bourbon et Bourbon. The result 
 
 ' MS., originally, " which." 
 
 'MS. and Graham; Bro. J. and Bentley have "discre- 
 tion " in place of " the quality." 
 
 'MS., "restored" replaced by "re-established"; Gra- 
 ham gives it "established." 
 
 *MS., "even " is an after-insertion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 49 
 
 has since shown that "what is bred in the bone 
 will break out' in the flesh." Commerce was at a 
 standstill; our master passed half his time under 
 arms, as a national guard, in order to keep the 
 revolutionists from revolutionizing the revolution. 
 The great families had laid aside their liveries; 
 some of them their coaches; most of them their 
 arms. Pocket-handkerchiefs of our calibre would 
 be thought decidedly aristocratic; and aristocracy 
 in Paris, just at that moment, was almost in as 
 bad odor as it is in America, where it ranks as an 
 eighth deadly sin, though no one seems to know 
 precisely what it means. In the latter country, 
 an honest development of democracy is certain to 
 be stigmatized as tainted with this crime. No 
 governor would dare to pardon it. 
 
 The groans over the state of trade were loud 
 and deep among those who lived by its innocent 
 arts. Still, the holidays were near and hope 
 revived. If revolutionized Paris would not buy 
 as the jour de tan approached, Paris must have a 
 new dynasty. The police foresaw this, and it 
 ceased to agitate, in order to bring the repub- 
 licans into discredit; men must eat, and trade was 
 permitted to revive a little. Alas! how little do 
 they who vote, know why they vote, or they who 
 dye their hands in the blood of their kind, why 
 the deed has been done! 
 
 The Diichesse had not returned to Paris; neither 
 
 ' MS., " break out " was originally " show itself." 
 
50 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 had she emigrated. Like most of the high nobil- 
 ity, who rightly enough believed that primogeni- 
 ture and birth were' of the last importance to them, 
 she preferred to show her distaste for the present 
 order of things, by which the youngest prince of 
 a numerous family had been put upon the throne 
 of the oldest, by remaining at her chateau. All 
 expectations of selling us to her were abandoned, 
 and we were thrown fairly into the market, on the 
 great principle of liberty and equality. This was 
 as became a republican reign. 
 
 Our prospects were varied daily. The Dau- 
 phine, Madame, and all the de Rochefoucaulds, 
 de la Tremouilles, de Grammonts, de Rohans, de 
 Crillons, &c., &c., were out of the question. The 
 royal family was^ in England, the Orleans branch 
 excepted, and the high nobility were very gen- 
 erally on their "high ropes," ox, a bonder. As 
 for the bankers, their reign had not yet fairly 
 commenced. Previously to July, 1830, this esti- 
 mable class of citizens had not dared to indulge 
 their native tastes for extravagance and parade, 
 the grave dignity and high breeding of a very 
 ancient but impoverished nobility holding them 
 in some restraint; and, then, their fortunes were^ 
 still uncertain; the funds were not firm, and even 
 the honorable and worthy Jacques Lafitte, a man 
 
 'MS., originally, "are." 
 
 'The printed versions, "were." 
 
 ^MS., originally, "even, were." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 51 
 
 to ennoble any calling, was shaking in credit. 
 Had we been brought into the market a twelve- 
 month later, there is no question that we should 
 have been caught up within a week by the wife 
 or daughter of some of the operatives at the 
 Bourse. 
 
 As it was, however, we enjoyed ample leisure 
 for observation and thought.' Again and again 
 were we shown to those who, it was thought, 
 could not fail to yield to our beauty; but no one 
 would purchase. All appeared to eschew aris- 
 tocracy, even in their pocket-handkerchiefs. The 
 day the fleur-de-lys^ were cut out of the medal- 
 lions of the treasury, and the king laid down his 
 arms, I thought our mistress would have had the 
 hysterics on our account. Little did she under- 
 stand human nature; for the nouveaux riches, who 
 are as certain to succeed an old and displaced 
 class of superiors as hungry flies to follow flies 
 with full bellies, would have been much more apt 
 to run into extravagance and folly than persons 
 always accustomed to money and who did not 
 depend on its exhibition for their importance. A 
 day of deliverance, notwithstanding, was at hand, 
 which to me seemed like the bridal of a girl 
 dying to rush into the dissipations* of society. 
 
 'MS. and Graham; Bro. J. and Bentley, "reflection." 
 ^Bentley, "fleurs-de-lis." 
 'Graham, "dissipation." 
 
52 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The holidays were over without there being 
 any material revival of trade, when my deliver- 
 ance unexpectedly occurred. It was in February, 
 and I do believe our mistress had abandoned the 
 expectation of disposing of us that season, when 
 I heard a gentle voice speaking near the counter,' 
 one day, in tones which struck me as familiar. 
 It was a female, of course, and her inquiries were 
 about a piece of cambric handkerchiefs, which she 
 said had been sent to this shop from a manufac- 
 tory in Picardie. There was nothing of the cus- 
 tomary alertness in the manner of our mistress, 
 and, to my surprise, she even showed the cus- 
 tomer one or two pieces of much inferior quality, 
 before we were produced. The moment I got 
 into the light, however, I recognized the beauti- 
 fully turned form and sweet face of Adrienne de 
 la Rocheaimard. The poor girl was paler and 
 thinner than when I had last seen her; doubtless, 
 I thought, the effects of her late illness; but I 
 could not conceal from myself the unpleasant 
 fact that she was much less expensively clad. I 
 say less expensively clad, though the expression 
 is scarcely just, for I had never seen her in attire 
 that could properly be called expensive at all; 
 
 'MS., originally, "comptoir." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 53 
 
 and, yet, the term mean' would be equally in- 
 applicable to her present appearance. It might 
 be better to say that, relieved by a faultless, even 
 a fastidious, neatness and grace, there was an air 
 of severe, perhaps of pinched, economy in her 
 present attire. This it was that had prevented 
 our mistress from showing her fabrics as fine as 
 we on the first demand. Still, I thought there 
 was a slight flush on the cheek ^ of the poor girl, 
 and a faint smile on her features, as she instantly 
 recognized us for old acquaintances. For one, I 
 own I was delighted at finding her soft fingers 
 again brushing over my own exquisite surface, 
 feeling as if one had been expressly designed for 
 the other. Then Adrienne hesitated; she ap- 
 peared desirous of speaking and yet abashed. 
 Her color went and came, until a deep rosy blush 
 settled on each cheek, and her tongue found 
 utterance. 
 
 "Would it suit you, madame," she asked, as if 
 dreading a repulse, " to part with one of these ? " 
 
 "Your pardon, mademoiselle; handkerchiefs of 
 this quality are seldom sold singly." 
 
 "I feared as much — and yet I have occasion 
 for only one. It is to be worked — if it — " 
 
 The words came slowly, and they were spoken 
 with difficulty. At that last uttered the sound of 
 the sweet girl's voice died entirely away. I fear 
 
 ' Bentley unnecessarily italicizes " mean." 
 2 MS., originally, "face." 
 
54 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 it was the dullness of trade, rather than any con- 
 siderations of benevolence, that induced our mis- 
 tress to depart from her rule. 
 
 "The price of each handkerchief is five and 
 twenty francs, mademoiselle" — she had offered 
 the day before to sell us to the wife of one of the 
 richest agents de change in Paris at a napoleon 
 apiece — " the price is five and twenty francs if 
 you take the dozen, but as you appear to wish 
 only one, rather than not oblige you, it may be 
 had for eight and twenty." 
 
 There was a strange mixture of sorrow and 
 delight in the countenance of Adrienne; but she 
 did not hesitate, and, attracted by the odor of the 
 eau de cologne^ she instantly pointed me out as 
 the handkerchief she selected. Our mistress 
 passed her scissors between me and my neighbor 
 of the coti gauche, and then she seemed instantly 
 to regret her own precipitation. Before making 
 the final separation from the piece she delivered 
 herself of her doubts. 
 
 " It is worth another franc, mademoiselle," she 
 said, " to cut a handkerchief from the centre of 
 the piece." 
 
 The pain of Adrienne was now too manifest 
 for concealment. That she ardently desired the 
 handkerchief was beyond dispute, and yet there 
 existed some evident obstacle to her wishes. 
 
 'MS., "attracted by the odor of the "eau de cologne" is 
 an after-insertion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 55 
 
 '' I fear I have not so much money with me, 
 madame," she said, pale as death, for all sense of 
 shame was lost in intense apprehension. Still her 
 trembling hands did their duty, and her purse was 
 produced. A gold napoleon promised well, but 
 it had no fellow. Seven more francs appeared in 
 single pieces. Then two ten-sous were produced; 
 after which nothing remained but copper. The 
 purse was emptied and the reticule rummaged,' 
 the whole sum^ amounting to just twenty-eight 
 francs seven sous. 
 
 "I have no more, madame," said Adrienne in a 
 faint voice. 
 
 The woman, who had been trained in the 
 school of suspicion, looked intently at the other, ' 
 for an instant, and then s-he swept the money into 
 her drawer, content to have extorted from this 
 poor girl more than she would have dared to ask 
 of the wife of the agent de change. Adrienne took 
 me up and glided from the shop, as if she feared 
 her dear bought prize would yet be torn from her. 
 I confess my own delight was so great, that I did 
 not fully appreciate, at the time, all the hardship 
 of the case. It was enough to be liberated, to 
 get into the fresh air, to be about to fulfill my 
 proper destiny. I was tired of that sort of vege- 
 tation in which I neither grew, nor was watered 
 
 ■MS., "was rummaged." 
 
 ^Printed versions omit "sum." 
 
 'MS., " poor girl " replaced by "other." 
 
^6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 by tears; nor could I ' see those stars on which I 
 so much doated, and from which I had learned a 
 wisdom so profound.^ The politics, too,' were 
 rendering our family unpleasant; the coti droit was 
 becoming supercilious — it had always been illogi- 
 cal; while the cotd gauche was just beginning to 
 discover that it had made a revolution for other 
 people. Then it was happiness itself to be with 
 Adrienne, and when I felt the dear girl pressing 
 me to her heart, by an act of volition of which 
 pocket-handkerchiefs are little suspected, I threw 
 up a fold of my gossamer-like texture, as if the 
 air wafted me, and brushed the first tear of hap- 
 piness from her eye that she had shed for 
 months. 
 
 The reader may be certain that my imagination 
 was all alive to conjecture the circumstances which 
 had brought Adrienne de la Rocheaimard to Paris, 
 and why she had been so assiduous in searching 
 me out, in particular. Could it be that the grate- 
 ful girl still intended to make her offering to the 
 Duchesse d'Angouleme f * Ah ! no — that princess 
 was in exile; while her sister was forming^ weak 
 
 MS. alterations: i " I " not in MS. ; ''■ originally " learned 
 so much"; ' " too " an after-insertion. 
 
 ^ Mr. Cooper, by an inadvertence, wrote " Duchesse de 
 Berri," which error is retained by Graham, but corrected in 
 Bro. J. and Bentley. 
 
 'MS. and Graham read "exile; or, rather, she was form- 
 ing," an additional error caused by the de Berri slip; Bro. 
 J. and Bentley amend it as given. Adrienne's benefactress 
 was the Dauphine, the daughter of Louis XVI, and mar- 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 57 
 
 plots in behalf of her son, which a double treach- 
 ery was about to defeat. I have already hinted 
 that pocket-handkerchiefs do not receive and 
 communicate ideas, by means of the organs in 
 use among human beings. They possess a clair- 
 voyance that is always available under favorable 
 circumstances. In their case the mesmeritic 
 trance may be said to be ever in existence, while 
 in the performance of their proper functions. It 
 is only while crowded into bales, or thrust into 
 drawers, for the vulgar purposes' of trade, that 
 this instinct is dormant; a beneficent nature 
 scorning to exercise her benevolence for any but 
 legitimate objects. I now mean legitimacy as 
 connected with cause and effect, and nothing 
 political or dynastic. 
 
 By virtue of this power I had not long been 
 held in the soft hand of Adrienne, or pressed 
 against her beating heart, without becoming the 
 master of all her thoughts, as well as of her va- 
 rious causes of hope and fear. This knowledge 
 did not burst upon me at once, it is true, as is 
 pretended to be the case with certain somnam- 
 bules, for with me there is no empiricism — every- 
 thing proceeds from cause to effect, and a little 
 time, with some progressive steps, was necessary 
 
 ried to the Duke d'Angouleme. The Duke de Berri, 
 brother of the latter, was also married, his wife being, of 
 course, Duchesse de Berri, hence the two royal ladies were 
 actually sisters-in-law and not sisters. 
 'MS., originally, "objects." 
 
58 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 to make me fully acquainted with the whole.' 
 The simplest things became the first apparent, 
 and others followed by a species of magnetic in- 
 duction, which I cannot now stop to explain. 
 When this tale is told, I propose to lecture on the 
 subject, to which all the editors in the country 
 will receive the usual free tickets, when the world 
 cannot fail of knowing quite as much, at least, as 
 these meritorious ' public servants. 
 
 The first fact that I learned, was the very im- 
 portant one that the Vicomtesse had lost all her 
 usual means of support by the late revolution, and 
 the ' consequent exile of the Dauphine. This 
 blow, so terrible to the grandmother and her de- 
 pendent child, had occurred, too, most inoppor- 
 tunely, as to time. A half year's pension was 
 nearly due at the moment the great change oc- 
 curred, and the day of payment arrived and 
 passed, leaving these two females literally without 
 twenty francs. Had it not been for the remains 
 of the trousseau, both must have begged, or per- 
 ished of want. The crisis called for decision, and, 
 fortunately, the old lady, who had already wit- 
 nessed so many vicissitudes, had still sufficient 
 energy to direct their proceedings. Paris was the 
 best place in which to dispose of her effects, and 
 thither she and Adrienne came, without a mo- 
 ment's delay. The shops were first tried, but the 
 
 MS. alterations: ' "everything" replaced by "the whole"; 
 ^ " meritorious " and " the " are after-insertions. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 59 
 
 shops, in the autumn of 1830, offered indifferent 
 resources for the seller.' Valuable effects were 
 there daily sold for a twentieth part of their ori- 
 ginal cost, and the Vicomtesse saw her little stores 
 diminish daily; for the Mont de PidtP was obliged 
 to regulate its own ' proceedings by the received 
 current values of the day. Old age, vexation, 
 and this last most cruel blow, did not fail of af- 
 fecting that which might have been foreseen. 
 The Vicomtesse sunk under this accumulation of 
 misfortunes, and became bedridden, helpless, and 
 querulous. Everything now devolved on the 
 timid, gentle, unpractical Adrienne. All females 
 of her condition, in countries advanced in civili- 
 zation like France, look to the resources of im- 
 parting a portion of what they themselves have ac- 
 quired, to others of their own sex, in moments of 
 urgent necessity. The possibility of Adrienne's 
 being compelled to become a governess, or a 
 companion, had long been kept in view, but the sit- 
 uation of Mad. de la Rocheaimard forbade any 
 attempt of the sort for the moment, had the state 
 of the country rendered it all probable that a sit- 
 uation could have been procured. On this fear- 
 ful exigency, Adrienne had aroused all her ener- 
 gies, and gone deliberately into the consideration 
 of her circumstances. 
 
 MS. alterations: 'This ending was originally" offered but 
 indifferent resources for both buyer and seller. " 
 2 Graham, " Mart de Pia6." 
 'MS., " own ■' is an after-insertion. 
 
6o AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 Poverty had compelled ' Mad. de la Rocheai- 
 mard to seek the cheapest respectable^ lodgings 
 she could find on reaching town. In anticipation 
 of a long residence, and, for the consideration of 
 a considerable abatement in price, she had for- 
 tunately paid six months' rent in advance; thus 
 removing from Adrienne the apprehension of 
 having no place in which to cover her head, for 
 some time to come. These lodgings were in an 
 entresol of the Place Royale, a perfectly reputable 
 and private part of the town, and in many ' re- 
 spects were highly eligible. Many of the menial 
 ofifices, too, were to be performed by the wife of 
 the porter, according to the bargain, leaving to 
 poor Adrienne, however, all the care of her 
 grandmother, whose room she could seldom quit,* 
 the duties of nurse and cook, and the still more 
 important task of finding the means of subsist- 
 ence. 
 
 For quite a month the poor, desolate girl con- 
 trived to provide for her grandmother's necessi- 
 ties by disposing of the different articles of the 
 trousseau. This^ store was now nearly exhausted, 
 and she had found a milliner who gave her a mis- 
 erable pittance for toiling with her needle eight 
 
 ' MS., after " compelled " was originally written " them." 
 ^MS., "respectable" is an after-insertion. 
 'MS. and Graham; Bro. J. and Bentley, "some." 
 * As in MS.; Graham omits "could "; Bro. J. and Bent- 
 ley, "she seldom quitted." 
 
 'MS., originally, " But this." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 6i 
 
 or ten hours each day. Adrienne had not lost a 
 moment, but had begun this system of ill-requited 
 industry long before her money was quite' ex- 
 hausted. She foresaw that her grandmother must 
 die, and the great object of her present existence 
 was to provide for the few remaining wants of 
 this only relative during the brief time she had 
 yet^ to live, and to give her decent and Christian 
 burial. Of her own future lot the poor girl 
 thought as little as possible, though fearful 
 glimpses would obtrude themselves on her uneasy 
 imagination. At first she had employed a physi- 
 cian ; but her means could not pay for his visits, 
 nor did the situation of her grandmother render 
 them very necessary.' He promised to call occa- 
 sionally without fee, and, for a short time, he kept 
 his word,* but his benevolence soon wearied of 
 performing offices that really were not required. 
 By the end of a^ month, Adrienne saw him no 
 more. 
 
 As long as her daily toil seemed to supply her 
 own" little wants, Adrienne was content to watch 
 on, weep on, pray on, in waiting for the moment 
 she so much dreaded: that which was to sever the 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley omit " quite." 
 
 ^MS., " yet" is an after-insertion. 
 
 'MS., originally this sentence was written as follows: 
 " But neitlier the means nor the situation of her grand- 
 mother render[ed] them necessary." 
 
 ^MS., originally, "promise." 
 
 'Bro. J. and Bentley, " the." 
 
 ^MS., "own " is an after-insertion. 
 
62 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 last tie she appeared to possess on earth. It is 
 true she had a few very distant relatives, but they 
 had emigrated to America at the commencement 
 of the revolution of 1789, and all trace of them 
 had long been lost. In point of fact, the men 
 were dead, and the females were grandmothers 
 with English names, and were almost' ignorant of 
 any such persons as the de la Rocheaimards.^ 
 From these ^ Adrienne had nothing to expect. To 
 her they were as beings in another planet. But 
 the trousseau was nearly exhausted, and the stock 
 of ready money was reduced to a single napoleon 
 and a little change. It was absolutely necessary 
 to decide on some new scheme for a temporary 
 subsistence, and that without delay. 
 
 Among the valuables of the trousseau was a piece 
 of exquisite lace that* had never been even worn. 
 The Vicomtesse had a pride in looking at it, for it 
 showed the traces of her former wealth and mag- 
 nificence, and she would never consent to part 
 with it. Adrienne had carried it once to her em- 
 ployer, the milliner, with the intention of dis- 
 posing of it, but the price offered was so greatly 
 below what she knew to be the true value that 
 she would not sell it. Her own wardrobe, how- 
 ever, was going fast ; nothing disposable remained 
 
 ' MS., " almost " is an after-insertion. 
 ^MS., Mr. Cooper — thinking in French — writes " Les 
 de Rocheaimards. " 
 
 'MS., originally, " them." 
 *Bentley, "which." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 63 
 
 of her grandmother's, and this piece of lace must 
 be turned to account in some way. While reflect- 
 ing on these dire necessities, Adrienne remem- 
 bered' our family. She knew to what shop we 
 had been sent in Paris, and she now determined 
 to purchase one of us ; to bestow on the handker- 
 chief selected some of her own beautiful needle- 
 work, to trim it with this lace, and, by the sale, 
 to raise a sum sufficient for all her grandmother's 
 earthly wants. 
 
 Generous souls are usually ardent. Their hopes 
 keep pace with their wishes ; and, as Adrienne 
 had heard that twenty napoleons were sometimes 
 paid by the wealthy for a single pocket-handker- 
 chief, when thus decorated, she saw a little treas- 
 ure in reserve before her mind's eye. 
 
 "I can do the work in two months," she said 
 to herself, " by taking the time I have used for 
 exercise and by severe economy. By eating less 
 myself and working harder, we can make out to 
 live that time on what we have." 
 
 This was the secret of my purchase, and the 
 true reason why this lovely girl had literally ex- 
 pended her last sou in making it. The cost had 
 materially exceeded her expectations, and she 
 could not return home without disposing of some 
 articles^ she had in her reticule to supply the 
 
 ' MS. originally written: " It was while reflecting on these 
 dire necessities that Adrienne remembered." 
 2 Printed versions, "article." 
 
64 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 vacuum left in her purse. There would be nothing 
 ready for the milliner under two or three days, 
 and there was little in the lodgings to meet the 
 necessities of her grandmother. Adrienne had 
 taken her way along the quays, delighted with her 
 acquisition, and was far from the' Mont de PiHi 
 before this indispensable duty occurred to her 
 mind. She then began to look about her for a 
 shop in which she might dispose of something for 
 the moment. Luckily, she was the mistress of a 
 gold thimble that had been presented to her by her 
 grandmother as her very last birthday present. 
 It was painful for her to part with it, but, as it 
 was to supply the wants of that very parent, the 
 sacrifice cost her less than might otherwise have 
 been the case. Its price had been^ a napoleon, 
 and a napoleon, just then, was a mint of money 
 in her eyes. Besides, she had a silver thimble at 
 home, and a brass one would do for her work. 
 
 Adrienne's necessities had made her acquainted 
 with several jewelers' shops. To one of these she 
 now proceeded, and, first observing through the 
 window that no person was in but one of her own 
 sex, the silversmith's wife, she entered with the 
 greater confidence and alacrity. 
 
 "Madame," she said, in timid tones, for want 
 had not yet made Adrienne bold or coarse, "I 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley omit " the." 
 ^ MS., originally, " It had cost." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 65 
 
 have a thimble to dispose of — could you be in- 
 duced to buy it?" 
 
 The woman took the thimble and examined it, 
 weighed it, and submitted its metal to the test of 
 the touchstone. Is was a pretty thimble, though 
 small, or it would not have fitted Adrienne's fin- 
 ger. This fact struck the woman of the shop, 
 and she cast a suspicious glance at Adrienne's 
 hand, the whiteness and size of which, however, 
 satisfied her that the thimble had not been 
 stolen. 
 
 "What do you expect to receive for this 
 thimble, mademoiselle?" asked the woman 
 coldly. 
 
 " It cost a napoleon, madame, and was made 
 expressly for myself." 
 
 " You do not expect to sell it at what it cost?" ' 
 was the dry answer. 
 
 " Perhaps not, madame, I suppose you will look 
 for a profit in selling it again. I wish you to 
 name the price." 
 
 This was said because the delicate ever shrink 
 from affixing a value to the time and services of 
 others. Adrienne was afraid she might uninten- 
 tionally deprive the other ^ of a portion of her 
 just gains. The woman" understood by the 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley give a radically different aspect to 
 this reply, by printing it as " Do you not expect to sell it at 
 what it cost? " which is moreyfa^ than dry. 
 
 2 Same authorities, "woman." 
 
 'Same authorities, "latter." 
 
66 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 timidity and undecided manner of the applicant, 
 that she had a very unpracticed being to deal 
 with, and she was emboldened to act accordingly. 
 First taking another look at the pretty little hand 
 and fingers, to make certain the thimble might 
 not be reclaimed, when satisfied that it really be- 
 longed to her who wished to dispose of it, she 
 ventured to answer. 
 
 " In such times as we had before these vile re- 
 publicans drove all the strangers from Paris, and 
 when our commerce was good," she said, " I might 
 have offered seven francs and a half for that 
 thimble; but, as things are now, the last sou I can 
 think of giving is five francs." 
 
 "The gold is very good, madame," Adrienne 
 observed, in a voice half-choked; "they told my 
 grandmother the metal alone was worth thirteen." 
 
 " Perhaps, mademoiselle, they might give that 
 much at the mint, for there they coin money; but, 
 in this shop, no one will give more than five francs 
 for that thimble." 
 
 Had Adrienne been longer in communion with 
 a cold and heartless world, she would not have 
 submitted to this piece of selfish extortion; but, 
 inexperienced, and half frightened by the wom- 
 an's manner, she begged the pittance offered as a 
 boon, dropped her thimble, and made a hasty 
 retreat. When the poor girl reached the street, 
 she began to reflect on what she had done. Five 
 francs would scarcely support her grandmother a 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 67 
 
 week, with even the wood and wine she had on 
 hand, and she had no more gold thimbles to sac- 
 rifice. A heavy sigh broke from her bosom, and 
 tears stood in her eyes. But she was wanted at 
 home, and had not the leisure to reflect fully on 
 her own mistake. 
 
68 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Occupation is a blessed relief to the miserable. 
 Of all the ingenious modes of torture that have 
 ever been invented, that of solitary confinement 
 is probably the most cruel — the mind feeding on 
 itself with the rapacity of a cormorant, when the 
 conscience quickens its activity and feeds' its 
 longings. Happily for Adrienne, she had too 
 many positive cares to be enabled to waste many 
 minutes either in retrospection, or in endeavors 
 to conjecture the future. Far — far more happily 
 for herself, her conscience was clear;^ for never 
 had a purer mind, or a gentler spirit dwelt in fe- 
 male breast. Still she could blame her own over- 
 sight, and it was days before her self-upbraidings, 
 for thus trifling with what she conceived to be 
 the resources of her beloved grandmother, were 
 driven from her thoughts by the pressure of other 
 and greater ills. 
 
 Were I to last a thousand years, and rise to the 
 dignity of being the handkerchief that the Grand 
 Turk is said to toss toward his favorite, I could 
 not forget the interest with which I accompanied 
 Adrienne to the door of her little apartment, in 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley, "prompts." 
 ^MS. , originally, "pure." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 69 
 
 the entresol. She was in the habit of hiring little 
 Nathalie, the porter's daughter, to remain with 
 her grandmother during her own necessary, but 
 brief, absences, and this girl was found at the en- 
 trance, eager to be relieved. 
 
 " Has my grandmother as^ed for me, Na- 
 thalie? " demanded Adrienne, ahxiojasly, the 
 moment they met. 
 
 " Non, mademoiselle; madame has done noth- 
 ing but sleep, and I was getting so tired! " 
 
 The sou was given, and the porter's daughter 
 disappeared, leaving Adrienne alone in the ante- 
 chamber. The furniture of this little apartment 
 was very respectable, for Madame de la Rocheai- 
 mard, besides paying a pretty fair rent, had hired 
 it just after the Revolution, when the prices ' had 
 fallen quite half, and the place had, by no means, 
 the appearance of that poverty which actually 
 reigned within. Adrienne went through the 
 ante-chamber, which served also as a salle-a-man- 
 ger, and passed a small salon into the bed-cham- 
 ber of her parent. Here her mind was relieved 
 by finding all right. She gave her grandmother 
 some nourishment, inquired tenderly as to her 
 wishes, executed several little necessary^ offices, 
 and then sat down to work for her own daily 
 bread; every moment being precious to one so 
 situated. I expected to be examined — perhaps 
 
 ' MS., originally, "rents." 
 
 2 MS., " necessary " is an after-insertion. 
 
7o AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 caressed, fondled, or praised, but no such atten- 
 tion awaited me. Adrienne had arranged every- 
 thing in her own mind, and I was to be produced 
 only at those extra hours in the morning, when 
 she had been accustomed to take ' exercise in the 
 open air. For the moment I was laid aside, 
 though in a place that enabled me to be a witness 
 of all that occurred. The day passed in patient 
 toil, on the part of the poor girl, the only relief 
 she enjoyed being those moments when she was 
 called on to attend to the wants of her grand- 
 mother. A light potage, with a few grapes ^ and 
 bread, composed her dinner: even' of these, I ob- 
 served, that she laid aside nearly half for the suc- 
 ceeding day; doubts of her having the means of 
 supporting her parent until the handkerchief was 
 completed, beginning to beset her mind. It was 
 these painful and obtrusive doubts that most dis- 
 tressed the dear girl, now, for the expectation of 
 reaping a reward comparatively brilliant from the 
 ingenious device to repair her means * on which 
 she had fallen, was strong within her. Poor 
 child! her misgivings were the overflowings of a 
 tender heart, while her hopes partook of the san- 
 guine character of youth and inexperience. 
 
 My turn came* the following morning. It was 
 now spring; and this is a season of natural 
 
 MS. alterations: '"take" is an after-insertion; ^ origi- 
 nally " raisins "; ^originally "and even"; * " to repair 
 her means " is an after-insertion; 'originally " came on." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 71 
 
 delights at Paris. We were already in April, and 
 the flowers had begun to shed their fragrance on 
 the air, and to brighten the aspect of the public 
 gardens. Mad. de la Rocheaimard usually 
 slept the soundest at this hour and, hitherto, 
 Adrienne had not hesitated to leave her, while 
 she went herself to the nearest promenade, to 
 breathe the pure air, and to gain strength for the 
 day. In' future, she was to deny herself this 
 sweet gratification. It was such a sacrifice, as 
 the innocent and virtuous, and, I may add, the 
 tasteful, who are cooped up amid the unnatural 
 restraints of a town, will best know how to appre- 
 ciate. Still, it was made without a murmur, 
 though not without a sigh. 
 
 When Adrienne laid me on the frame where I 
 was to be ornamented by her own pretty hands, 
 she regarded me with a look of delight, nay," even 
 of affection, that I shall never forget. As yet she 
 felt none of the malign consequences of the self- 
 denial she was about to exert. If not blooming, 
 her cheeks still retained some of their native 
 color, and her eye, thoughtful, and even sad, was 
 not yet anxious and sunken. She was pleased 
 with her purchase, and she contemplated prodigies 
 in the way of results. Adrienne was unusually^ 
 skillful with the needle, and her taste had been so 
 highly cultivated, as to make her a perfect mis- 
 
 MS. alterations: 'Originally "But, in future " ; ^origi- 
 nally "and"; ^"unusually" is an after-insertion. 
 
73 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 tress of all the proprieties of patterns. At the 
 time it was thought of making an offering of all 
 our family to the Dauphine, the idea of working 
 the handkerchiefs was entertained, and some de- 
 signs of exquisite beauty and neatness had been 
 prepared. They were not simple, vulgar, unmean- 
 ing ornaments, such as the uncultivated seize 
 upon with avidity, on account of their florid ap- 
 pearance; but well-devised drawings, that were 
 replete with taste and thought, and afforded some 
 apology for the otherwise senseless luxury con- 
 templated, by aiding in refining the imagination, 
 and cultivating the intellect. She had chosen ^ one 
 of the simplest and most beautiful of these designs, 
 intending to transfer it my face, by means of the 
 needle. 
 
 The first stitch was made just as the clocks were 
 striking the hour of five, on the morning of the 
 fourteenth'' of April, 183 1. The last was drawn 
 that day two months, precisely as the same clocks 
 struck twelve.* For four hours' Adrienne sat 
 bending over her toil, deeply engrossed in the 
 occupation, and flattering herself with the fruits 
 of her success. I learned much of the excellent 
 
 MS. alterations: ' " agitated " replaced by " thought of " ; 
 ^originally " now chosen." 
 
 ^Bentley, " 14th." 
 
 ■• MS. Mr. Cooper evidently started out with the inten- 
 tion of dwelling more on the work of the first day, for this 
 sentence was originally written as follows: " The last drawn 
 that day was precisely as the same clocks struck nine." 
 
 'MS., originally, "hours had." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 73 
 
 child's true character in these brief hours. Her 
 mina wandered over her hopes and fears, recurring 
 to her other labors, and the prices she received 
 for occupations so wearying and slavish. By the 
 milliner, she was paid merely as a common sew- 
 ing-girl, though her neatness, skill and taste, 
 might well have entitled her to double wages. A 
 franc a day was the usual price for girls of an 
 inferior caste, and out of this they were expected 
 to find their own lodgings and food. But the poor 
 revolution had still a great deal of private misery 
 to answer for, in the way of reduced wages. 
 Those who live on the frivolities of mankind, or, 
 what is the same thing, their luxuries, have two 
 sets of victims to plunder — the consumer, and 
 the real producer, or the operative. This is true 
 where men are employed, but much truer in the 
 case of females. The last are usually so help- 
 less, that they often cling to oppression and 
 wrong, rather than submit to be cast entirely upon 
 the world. The ■marcha7ide de modes who em- 
 ployed Adrienne was as rus^e as a politician who 
 had followed all the tergiversations of Gallic 
 policy, since the year '89. She was fully aware 
 of what a prize she possessed in the unpracticed 
 girl, and she felt the importance of keeping her in 
 ignorance of her own value. By paying the franc, 
 it might give her assistant premature notions of 
 her own importance; but, by bringing her down 
 
 'MS., originally, "four." 
 
74 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 to fifteen sous, humility would be inculcated, and 
 the chance of keeping her doubled. This, which 
 ivould have defeated a bargain with any common 
 couturiire, succeeded perfectly with Adrienne.' 
 She received her fifteen sous with humble thank- 
 fulness, in constant apprehension of losing even 
 that miserable pittance. Nor would her employer 
 consent to let her work by the piece, at which the 
 dear child might have earned at least thirty sous, 
 for she discovered that she had to deal with a 
 person of conscience, and that in no mode could 
 as much be possibly extracted from the assistant, 
 as by confiding to her own honor. At nine each 
 day she was to breakfast. At a quarter past nine, 
 precisely,'' to commence work for her employer; 
 at one, she had a remission of half an hour; and, 
 at six, she became her own mistress. 
 
 "I put perfect^ confidence in you. Mademoi- 
 selle," said the marchande de modes, "and leave 
 you to yourself entirely. You will bring home 
 the work as it is finished, and your money will be 
 always ready. Should your grandmother occupy 
 more of your time than common, on any occasion, 
 you can make it up of yourself, by working a lit- 
 tle earlier, or a little later; or, once in a while, 
 you can throw in a day, to make up for lost time. 
 
 'MS., originally this portion was written "with Ad- 
 rienne who received." 
 
 ^MS., "precisely " is an after-insertion. 
 
 'The printed versions all omit " perfect." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 75 
 
 You would not do as well at piece-work, and I 
 wish to deal generously by you. When certain 
 things are wanted in a hurry, you will not mind 
 working an hour or two beyond time, and I will 
 always find lights with the greatest pleasure. 
 Permit me to advise you to take the inter- 
 missions as much as posssible for your attention 
 to your grandmother, who must be attended to 
 properly. Si — the care of our parents is one of 
 our most solemn duties! Adieu, Mademoiselle; 
 au revoir!" 
 
 This was one of the speeches of the marchande 
 de modes to Adrienne, and the dear girl repeated 
 it in her mind, as she sat at work on me, without 
 the slightest distrust of the heartless selfishness 
 it so ill concealed. On fifteen sous she found she 
 could live without encroaching on the little stock 
 set apart for the support of her grandmother, and 
 she was content. Alas! the poor girl had not 
 entered into any calculation of the expense of 
 lodgings, of fuel, of clothes, of health impaired, 
 and, as for any resources for illness or accidents, 
 she was totally without them. Still Adrienne 
 thought herself the obliged party, in times as criti- 
 cal as those which then hung over France, in be- 
 ing permitted to toil' for a sum that would barely 
 supply a grisette, accustomed all her life to priva- 
 tions, with the coarsest necessaries. 
 
 ' MS. does not contain " to toil " — possibly inserted in the 
 proof by Mr. Cooper. 
 
76 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 I have little to say of the succeeding fortnight. 
 Mad. de la Rocheaimard gradually grew feebler, 
 but she might still' live months. No one could 
 tell, and Adrienne hoped she would never die. 
 Happily, her real'' wants were few, though her 
 appetite was capricious, and her temper querulous. 
 Love for her grandchild, however, shone in all she 
 said and did, and, so long as she was loved by this, 
 the only being on earth she had ever been taught 
 to love herself, Adrienne would not think an 
 instant of the ills caused by the infirmities of age. 
 She husbanded her money with the utmost frugal- 
 ity, and contrived to save even a few sous daily, 
 out of her own wages, to add to her grandmother's 
 stock. This she could not have done, but for the 
 circumstance of there being stilP so much in the 
 house of their early stores, to help eke out the 
 supplies of the moment. But, at the end of a 
 fortnight, Adrienne found herself reduced to her 
 last franc, including all her own savings. Some- 
 thing must be done, and that without delay, or 
 Madame de la Rocheaimard would be without the 
 means of support. 
 
 By this time Adrienne had little to dispose of, 
 except the lace. This exquisite piece of human 
 ingenuity had originally cost five louis d'or, and 
 Adrienne had once shown it to her employer, who 
 
 ' Bentley, "still might." 
 
 ^MS., " real " is an after-insertion. 
 
 'The printed versions all omit " still." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 77 
 
 had generously offered to give' two napoleons for 
 it. But the lace must be kept for my gala dress, 
 and it was hoped that it would bring at least its 
 original cost when properly bestowed as an orna- 
 ment on a fabric of my quality. There was the 
 silver thimble, and that had cost five francs. 
 Adrienne sent for the porter's daughter, and she 
 went forth to dispose of this, almost the only 
 article of any^ luxury that remained to her. 
 
 " Un d^, ma bo?me demoiselle!" exclaimed the 
 woman to whom the thimble was offered for sale; 
 " this is so common an article as scarcely to com- 
 mand any price. I will give thirty sous, notwith- 
 standing." 
 
 Adrienne had made her calculations, as she 
 fancied, with some attention to the ways of the 
 world. Bitter experience was teaching her severe 
 lessons, and she felt the necessity of paying more 
 attention, than had been her wont, to the practices 
 of men. She had hoped to receive three francs 
 for her thimble, which was quite new, and which, 
 being pretty, was cheap at five, as sold in the 
 shops. She ventured, therefore, to express as 
 much to the woman in question. 
 
 "Three francs. Mademoiselle!" exclaimed the 
 other — ''Jamais, since the three days! All our 
 comm£rce was then destroyed, and no one would 
 think of giving such a price. If I get three for it, 
 
 1 Bentley inserts " her " after " give." 
 
 2 All the printed versions omit "any." 
 
>j8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 myself, I shall be too happy. CependaTii, as the 
 thimble is pretty, and the metal looks good, we 
 will say five-and-thirty sous, and have no more 
 words about it." 
 
 Adrienne sighed, and then she received the 
 money and returned home. Two hours later the 
 woman of the shop met with an idle customer, 
 who had more money than discretion, and she 
 sold this very thimble for six francs, under the 
 plea that it was a new fashion that had sprung out 
 of the Revolution of July. That illustrious event, 
 however, produced other results that were quite 
 as hard to be reduced to the known connection 
 between cause and effect as this. 
 
 Adrienne found, that, by using the wine which' 
 still remained, as well as some sugar and arrow- 
 root, her grandmother could be made comfortable 
 for just ten sous a day. She had been able to 
 save of her own wages three, and here, then, were 
 the means of maintaining Madame de la Roche- 
 aimard, including the franc on hand,^ for just a 
 week' longer. To do this, however, some little 
 extra economy would be necessary. Adrienne 
 had conscientiously taken the time used^ to sell 
 the thimble from her morning's work on me. As 
 she sat down, on her return, she went over these 
 calculations in her mind; and when they were 
 
 MS. alteratiops : ^Originally "that"; ^"including the 
 franc on hand " is an after-insertion; '"a week " replaces 
 " six days " ; * " used " is an after-insertion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 79 
 
 ended, she cast a look at her work, as if to calcu- 
 late its duration by what she had so far finished. 
 Her eye assured her that not more than one- 
 fourth of her labor was, as yet, completed. Could 
 she get over th& next six weeks, however, she 
 would be comparatively rich ; and, as her lease 
 would be out in two months, she determined to 
 get cheaper lodgings in the country, remove her 
 grandmother, purchase another handkerchief — if 
 possible, one of my family — and while she lived 
 on the fruits of her present labors, to earn the 
 means for ' a still more ^ remote day. It is true, 
 she had no more lace with which to decorate 
 another handkerchief, but the sale of this would 
 supply the money'' to purchase anew* ; and, in this 
 way, the simple-minded girl saw no reason why 
 she might not continue on, as long as health and 
 strength would allow — at least, as long as her 
 grandmother lived. 
 
 Hope is as blessed a provision for the poor and 
 unhappy as occupation.^ While oppressed with 
 present ills they struggle to obtain a fancied 
 existence under happier auspices, furnishing a 
 healthful and important lesson to man, that never 
 
 'MS., "of." 
 
 2 Bro. J. and Bentley omit " more." 
 
 'MS., originally, "means." 
 
 ^MS., originally, "one," then "others"; the printed 
 versions "anew." 
 
 'MS., originally this sentence was written, "Hope is a 
 blessed provision for the poor and unhappy." 
 
8o AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 ceases to remind him of a future that is to repair* 
 every wrong, ^ apply a balm to every wound, if he 
 will only make a timely provision for its wants. 
 
 Again did Adrienne resume her customary 
 round of duties. Four hours each morning were 
 devoted^ to me. Then followed the frugal break- 
 fast, when' her commoner toil for the milliner 
 succeeded. The rest of the day was occupied 
 with this latter work, for which she received the 
 customary fifteen sous. When' she retired at 
 night, which the ailings and complaints of her 
 grandmother seldom permitted before eleven, it 
 was with a sense of weariness that began to destroy 
 sleep. Still the dear girl thought herself happy, 
 for I more than equalled her expectations, and 
 she had latterly worked on me with so much zeal 
 as to have literally thrown the fruits of two weeks' 
 work into one. 
 
 But the few trances Adrienne ° possessed dimin- 
 ished with alarming rapidity. She* began to cal- 
 culate her ways and means, once more, and this 
 was no longer done as readily as before. Her 
 own wardrobe would not bear any drain upon it ; 
 early in the indisposition of her grandmother, all 
 of tkaf had been sold which* she could spare; for, 
 with the disinterestedness of her nature, when 
 
 MS. alterations: 'Originally "heal"; ^ oj-jginally 
 "wound"; '"were devoted" replaces " did she devote "; 
 •originally "And when"; 'originally "she"; * origi- 
 nally "Adrienne"; '"of that" is an after-insertion; 
 * originally " that." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 8l 
 
 sacrifices became necessary, her first thoughts 
 were of her own little stock of clothes. Of jew- 
 elry she never had been the mistress of much, 
 though the Vicomtesse had managed to save a 
 few relics of her own ancient magnificence. Nev- 
 ertheless, they were articles of but little value, 
 the days of her exile having made many demands 
 on all such resources.' 
 
 It happened, one evening, when Adrienne was 
 receiving her wages from the milliner, that the 
 poor girl overheard a discourse that proved she 
 was not paid at the rate at which others were 
 remunerated. Her eyes^ told her that her own 
 work was the neatest in the shop, and she also 
 saw that she did more' than any other girl 
 employed by the same person. As she knew her 
 own expertness with the needle, this did not sur- 
 prise her ; but she felt some wonder that more 
 and better work should produce the least reward. 
 Little did she understand the artifices of the 
 selfish and calculating, one of the most familiar 
 of their frauds being to conceal from the skillful 
 their own success, lest it* should command a 
 price in proportion to its claims. The milliner 
 heard Adrienne's lady-like and gentle remon- 
 strance with alarm, and^ she felt that she was in 
 danger of losing a prize. But two expedients 
 
 MS. alterations: 'Originally "things"; ^ originally 
 "own eyes"; ^originally "more work"; 'originally 
 "they "; ' " but." 
 
82 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 suggested ' themselves ; to offer a higher price, or 
 to undervalue the services she was so fearful of 
 losing. Her practiced policy, as well as her sel- 
 fishness, counselled her to try the latter expedient 
 first. 
 
 " You amaze me. Mademoiselle ! " she an- 
 swered, when Adrienne, trembling at her own 
 resolution, ceased speaking. " I was thinking 
 myself whether I could afford to pay you fifteen 
 sous, when so many young women, who have 
 been regularly brought up to the business, are 
 willing to work for less. I am afraid we must 
 part, unless you can consent to receive twelve 
 sous in future." 
 
 Adrienne stood aghast. The very mirror of 
 truth herself, she could not imagine that any one 
 — least of all any woman — could be so false and 
 cruel as to practice the artifice to which the milli- 
 ner had resorted ; and, here, just as she hoped she 
 saw a way opened by which she might support 
 both her grandmother and herself until the hand- 
 kerchief was completed, a change threatened her, 
 by which she was to be left^ altogether without 
 food.' Still her conscience was so tender that 
 she even doubted the propriety of accepting her old 
 wages were she really incompetent to earn them. 
 
 " I had hoped, Madame," she said, the color 
 coming and going on cheeks that were now 
 
 MS. alterations: '"suggested themselves," replaces 
 "offered"; ^ " left " is an after-insertion; 'originally 
 " without food for herself." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 83 
 
 usually pale — " I had hoped, Madame, that you 
 found my work profitable. Surely, surely, I bring 
 home as much at night as any other demoiselle 
 you employ." 
 
 " In that there is not much difference, I allow, 
 Mademoiselle ; but you can imagine that work 
 done by one accustomed to the art is more likely 
 to please customers than work done by one who 
 has been educated as a lady. Cependant, I will 
 not throw you off, as I know that your poor, dear 
 grandmother — " 
 
 "Si — si," eagerly interrupted Adrienne, trem- 
 bling from head to foot with apprehension. 
 
 " I know it all, Mademoiselle, and the dear old 
 lady shall not suffer; you' shall both be made 
 happy again on fifteen. To ease your mind. 
 Mademoiselle, I am willing to make a written 
 contract for a year ; at that rate, too, to put your 
 heart at ease." 
 
 " Non — non — non," murmured Adrienne, happy 
 and grateful for the moment, but unwilling to 
 defeat her own plans for the future. " Thank 
 you, thank you, Madame ; to-morrow you shall 
 see what I can do." 
 
 And Adrienne toiled the succeeding day, not 
 only until her fingers and body ached, but until 
 her very heart ached. Poor child ! Little did 
 she think that she was establishing precedents 
 against herself by which further and destructive 
 
 'MS., originally, "and you." 
 
84 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 exertions might be required. But the apprehen- 
 sion of losing the pittance she actually received, 
 and thereby blasting all hopes from me, was con- 
 stantly before her mind, quickening her hand and 
 sustaining her body. 
 
 During all this time Madame de la Rocheimard 
 continued slowly' to sink. Old age, disappoint- 
 ments, and poverty were working out their usual 
 results, and death was near to close the scene. 
 So gradual were the changes, however, that 
 Adrienne did not note them, and, accustomed as 
 she had been to the existence, the presence, the 
 love, of this one being, and of this being only, 
 to her the final separation scarce seemed within 
 the bounds of possibility. Surely, everything 
 around the human family inculcates the doctrine 
 of the mysterious future, and the necessity of 
 living principally that they be prepared to die. 
 All they produce perishes, all they imagine per- 
 ishes, as does all they love. The union of two 
 beings may be so engrossing, in their eyes, have 
 lasted so long, and embraced so many ties, as to 
 seem indissoluble ; it is all seeming ; the hour 
 will infallibly come when the past becomes as 
 nothing, except as it has opened the way to the 
 future. 
 
 Adrienne, at length,^ by dint of excessive toil, 
 by working deep into the nights, by stinting her- 
 
 'MS., originally, "gradually." 
 
 ^MS., "at length" is an after-insertion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 85 
 
 self of food, and by means of having disposed of 
 the last article with' which she could possibly 
 part, had managed to support her grandmother 
 and herself until she saw me so far done'' as to be 
 within another day's work of completion. At 
 such a moment as this, all feeling of vanity is out 
 of the question. I was certainly beautiful. A 
 neater, a more tasteful, a finer, or a more exqui- 
 sitely laced handkerchief, did not exist within the 
 walls of Paris. In all that she figured to herself, 
 as related to my appearance, the end justified^ her 
 brightest expectations;* but, as that end drew 
 near, she felt how insufficient were alP human 
 results to meet the desires of human hopes. Now 
 that her painful and exhausting" toil was nearly 
 over, she did not experience the happiness she 
 had anticipated. The fault was not in me, but 
 in herself. Hope had exhausted her spirit,' and, 
 as if merely to teach the vanity of the wishes of 
 men, a' near approach to the object that had 
 seemed so desirable in the distance, had stripped 
 off the mask and left the real countenance ex- 
 posed. There was nothing unusual in this ; it 
 was merely following out a known ' law of Nature. 
 
 MS. alterations: ■ Originally "from "; ^ originally "com- 
 pleted"; 'originally " had justified." 
 
 ^Bentley, "expectation." 
 
 'MS. only; the printed versions omitting "all." 
 
 MS. alterations: ' " painful and exhausting " is an after- 
 insertion; '"her spirit" replaces "itself"; 'originally 
 " the "; ' " known " is an after-insertion. 
 
86 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The morning of the 14th June arrived. Paris 
 is then at its loveliest season. The gardens, in 
 particular, are worthy of the capital of Europe, 
 and they are open to all who can manage to make 
 a decent appearance. Adrienne's hotel had a 
 little garden in the rear, and she sat at her win- 
 dow endeavoring to breathe the balmy odors that 
 arose from it. Enter it she could not. It was 
 the property, or devoted to the uses, of the occu- 
 pant of the rez de chaussie. Still she might look 
 at it as often as she dared to raise her eyes from 
 her needle. The poor girl was not what she had 
 been two months before. The handkerchief 
 wanted but a few hours of being finished, it is 
 true ; but the pale cheeks, the hollow eyes, and 
 the anxious look, proved at what a sacrifice of 
 health and physical force I had become what I 
 was. As I had grown in beauty, the hand that 
 ornamented me had wasted, and when I looked 
 up to catch the smile of approbation, it was found 
 to be careworn and melancholy. Still, the birds 
 did not sing the less sweetly — for Paris is full of 
 birds ; the roses were as fragrant, and the verdure 
 was as deep as ever. Nature does not stop to 
 lament over any single victim of human society. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 87 
 
 When misery is the deepest, there is something 
 awful in this perpetual and smiling round of 
 natural movements. It teaches profoundly the 
 insignificance of any one of ' the atoms of 
 creation. 
 
 Adrienne had risen earlier than common, even, 
 this morning, determined to get through with 
 her task by noon, for she was actually sewing on 
 the lace, and her impatience would not permit 
 her to resume the work of the milliner that day, 
 at least. For the last month she had lived, lit- 
 erally^ on dry bread, herself; at first with a few 
 grapes to give her appetite a little gratification,^ 
 but, toward the last, on nothing but dry bread 
 and water. She had not suffered so much from 
 a want of food, however, as from a want of air 
 and exercise; from unremitting, wasting toil, at a 
 sedentary occupation, from hope deferred, and 
 from sleepless nights. Then she wanted the 
 cheering association of sympathy. She was 
 strictly alone; with the exception of her short in- 
 terviews with the milliner, she conversed with no 
 one. Her grandmother slept most of the time, 
 and when she did speak, it was with the queru- 
 lousness of disease, and not in the tones of affec- 
 
 ' The MS. alone has " any one of." 
 
 2 MS. only; the printed versions invert it to "literally 
 lived." 
 
 'MS., originally, this portion was written "to give zest 
 to her appetite," then "to give her appetite a little zest," 
 finally as in text. 
 
88 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 tion.' This was hardest of all to bear; but Adri- 
 enne did bear^ up under all, flattering herself that 
 when she could remove Mad. de la Rocheaimard 
 into the country, her grandmother '" would revive, 
 and become as fond of her, as ever. She toiled 
 on, therefore, though she could not altogether 
 suppress her tears. Under her painful and press- 
 ing* circumstances, the poor girl felt her deepest 
 affliction to be that she had not time to pray. 
 Her work, now that she had nothing to expect 
 from the milliner, could not be laid aside for a 
 moment, though her soul did pour out its long- 
 ings, as she sat plying her needle. 
 
 Fortunately, Madame de la Rocheaimard was 
 easy and tranquil, the whole of the last morning. 
 Although nearly exhausted by her toil and the 
 want of food — for Adrienne had eaten her last 
 morsel, half a roll, at breakfast — she continued to 
 toil;' but the work was nearly done, and the dear 
 girl's needle fairly flew. Of a sudden, she dropped 
 me in her lap, and burst into a flood of tears. 
 Her sobs were hysterical, and I felt afraid she 
 would faint. A glass of water, however, restored 
 her, and then this outpouring of an exhausted 
 nature was suppressed. I was completed! At that 
 instant, if not the richest, I was probably the 
 
 MS. alterations: 'Originally "tones of love," then 
 "tones of love and affection," finally as given; ^ " did 
 bear " was originally " bore " ; ' " her grandmother " was 
 originally " she " ; ''" and pressing " is an after-insertion; 
 'originally "she continued to work," then "Adrienne 
 continued to toil," finally asm text; 'originally "moment." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 89 
 
 neatest and most tasteful, handkerchief in Paris. 
 At this critical moment, Disir^e, the commission- 
 aire, entered the room. 
 
 From the moment that Adrienne had purchased 
 me, this artful woman had never lost sight of the 
 intended victim. By means of an occasional 
 bribe to little Nathalie, she ascertained the pre- 
 cise progress of the work, and, learning that I 
 should probably be ready for sale that very' 
 morning, under pretence of hiring the apartment, 
 she was shown into my important presence. A 
 brief apology explained all, and Adrienne civilly 
 showed her little rooms. 
 
 "When does your lease end. Mademoiselle? " 
 demanded Dhirie, carelessly. 
 
 " Next week, Madame. I intend to remove to 
 the country with my grandmother, the beginning 
 of the week." 
 
 " You will do very right; no one, that has the 
 means, should stay in Paris after June. Dieu! 
 What a beautiful handkerchief! Surely — surely — 
 this is not your work. Mademoiselle! " 
 
 Adrienne simply answered in the afifirmative, 
 and then the commissionaire's admiration was re- 
 doubled. Glancing her eye around the room, as 
 if to ascertain the probabilities, the woman in- 
 quired if the handkerchief was ordered, Adri- 
 enne blushed, but, shaking off the transient 
 
 ' MS., " very" is an after-insertion. 
 
90 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 feeling' of shame, she stated that it was for 
 sale. 
 
 " I know a lady who would buy this — a mar- 
 chande de modes, a friend of mine, who gives the 
 highest prices that are ever paid'' for such arti- 
 cles — for, to tell you the truth, certain Russian 
 princesses employ her, in all these little matters. 
 Have you thought of your price, Mademoiselle? " 
 
 Adrienne's bloom had actually returned, with 
 this unexpected gleam of hope, for the affair of 
 disposing of me had always appeared awful, in 
 her imagination. She owned the truth frankly, 
 and said that she had not made herself acquainted 
 with the prices of such things, except as she had 
 understood what affluent ladies paid for them. 
 
 "Ah! that is a different matter," said Disirie, 
 coldly. " These ladies pay far more than a thing 
 is worth. Now, you paid ten francs for the hand- 
 kerchief itself." 
 
 "Twenty-eight," answered Adrienne, trembling. 
 
 "Twenty-eight! Mademoiselle, they deceived 
 you shamefully. Ten would have been dear, in 
 the present absence of strangers from Paris. No, 
 call that ten. This lace would probably bring a 
 napoleon — yes, I think it might bring a napol- 
 eon." 
 
 Adrienne's heart fairly^ sunk within her. She 
 
 ' MS., originally, " of her." 
 
 ^ MS., " price that is ever paid." 
 
 ^ MS. alone has " fairly " : the printed versions omitting it. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 91 
 
 had supposed it to be worth at least five' times 
 as much. 
 
 "That makes thirty francs," continued Dhirh, 
 coldly; "and now for the work. You must have 
 been a fortnight doing all this ^ pretty work." 
 
 " Two months, madame," said Adrienne, faintly. 
 
 "Two months! Ah! you are not accustomed 
 to this sort of work, and are not adroit, perhaps." 
 
 "I worked only in the mornings, and late at 
 night; but I ^ still think I worked full hours." 
 
 "Yes, you worked when sleepy. Call it a 
 month then. Thirty days, at ten sous a day, make 
 fifteen francs. Ten for the handkerchief, twenty 
 for the lace, and fifteen for the work, make forty- 
 five francs — parole d'homieur, it does come to a 
 pretty price for a handkerchief. Si, we must ask 
 forty-five francs for it and then we can always 
 abate the five francs, and take two napoleons." 
 
 Adrienne felt sick at heart. Want of nourish- 
 ment had lessened her energies, and here came a 
 blow to all her golden visions, that was near over- 
 coming her. She knew that handkerchiefs, sim- 
 ilar to this, frequently sold for twenty napoleons 
 in the shops, but she did not know how much the 
 cupidity of trade exacted from the silly and vain, 
 in the way of sheer contributions to avarice. It 
 is probable the unfortunate young lady would 
 
 ' MS., originally, "three." 
 
 ^Bentley, "the." 
 
 8 MS. alone ; the others omit the " I." 
 
92 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 have lost her consciousness, under the weight of 
 this blow, had it not been for the sound of her 
 grandmother's feeble voice calling her to the bed- 
 side. This was a summons that Adrienne never 
 disregarded, and, for the moment, she forgot her' 
 causes of grief. 
 
 " My poor Adrienne," whispered Madame de 
 la Rocheaimard, in a tone of tenderness that her 
 granddaughter had not heard for some weeks, 
 " my poor Adrienne, the hour is near when we 
 must part " 
 
 " Grandmamma! dearest grandmamma! " 
 
 " Nay, love, God wills it. I am old, and I feel 
 death upon me. It is happy that he comes so 
 gently, and when I am ^ so well prepared to meet 
 him. The grave has views that no other scene 
 offers, Adrienne! Noble blood and ancient re- 
 nown are as nothing compared to God's mercy 
 and^ forgiveness. Pardon me if I have ever 
 taught thy simple heart to dwell on vanities; but 
 it was a fault of the age. This world is all vanity, 
 and I can now see it, when it is too late, Do not 
 let my fault be thy fault, child of my love. Kiss 
 me, Adrienne, pray * for my soul, when all is over." 
 
 " Yes, dearest, dearest grandmamma, thou 
 know'st I will." 
 
 ' MS., originally, " her other." 
 2 MS., "feel." 
 
 ^MS., originally, "and his." 
 *MS., originally, "and pray." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 93 
 
 " Thou must part with the rest of the trousseau, 
 to make thyself comfortable when I am gone." 
 
 " I will do as thou wishest, dear ' grand- 
 mamma." 
 
 " Perhaps it will raise enough to purchase thee 
 four or five hundred francs of rentes, on which 
 thou may'st live with frugality." 
 
 " Perhaps it will, grandmamma." 
 
 "Thou will not sell the thimble — that thou 
 will keep to remember me." 
 
 Adrienne bowed her head and groaned. Then 
 her grandmother desired her to send for a priest, 
 and her thoughts took another direction. It was 
 fortunate they did, for the spirit of the girl could 
 not have endured more." 
 
 That night Madame de la Rocheaimard died, 
 the wife of the porter, the bon curd, and Adrienne 
 alone being present. Her last words were a bene- 
 diction on the fair and gentle being who had so 
 faithfully and tenderly nursed her in old age. 
 When all was over, and the body was laid out, 
 Adrienne asked to be left alone with it. Living 
 or dead, her grandmother could never be an 
 object of dread to her, and there were few dis- 
 posed to watch. In the course of the night 
 Adrienne even caught a little sleep, a tribute that 
 nature imperiously demanded of her weakness. 
 
 The following day was one of anguish and em- 
 
 ' MS. alone; the others have " dearest." 
 2 MS., originally, "much more." 
 
94 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 barrassment. The physician, who always inspects 
 the dead in France, came to make his report. 
 The arrangements were to be ordered' for the 
 funeral. Fortunately, as Adrienne then thought, 
 D^sir^e appeared in the course of the morning, as 
 one who came in consequence of ^ having been 
 present at so much of the scene of the preced- 
 ing day. In her character of a commissionaire she 
 offered her services, and Adrienne, unaccustomed 
 to act for herself in such offices, was fain to 
 accept them. She received an order, or rather 
 an answer to a suggestion of her own, and hurried 
 off to give the necessary directions. Adrienne 
 was now left alone, again, with the body of her 
 deceased grandmother. As soon as the excite- 
 ment ceased, she began to feel languid, and she 
 became sensible of her own bodily wants. Food 
 of no sort had passed her lips in more than thirty 
 hours, and her last meal had been a scanty break- 
 fast of dry bread. As the faintness of hunger 
 came over her, Adrienne felt for her purse, with 
 the intention of sending Nathalie to a neighboring 
 baker's, when the truth flashed upon her in its 
 dreadful reality. She had not a Hard. Her last 
 sou had furnished the breakfast of the preceding 
 day. A sickness like that of death came over 
 her, when, casting her eyes around her in despair, 
 they fell on the little table that usually held the 
 
 MS. alterations: 'Originally "made"; ^ originally " of 
 her " ; ' " so much of " is an after-insertion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 95 
 
 nourishment prepared for her grandmother. A 
 little arrowroot, and a light pofage, that contained 
 bread, still remained. Although it was all that 
 seemed to separate the girl from death, she hesi- 
 tated about using it. There was an appearance 
 of sacrilege, in her eyes, in the act of appropriat- 
 ing these things to herself. A moment's reflec- 
 tion, however, brought her to a truer state of 
 mind, and then she felt it to be a duty to that 
 dear parent herself ' to renew ^ her own strength,' 
 in order to discharge her duty to the dead. She 
 ate, therefore, though it was with a species of 
 holy reverence. Her strength was renewed, and 
 she was enabled to relieve her soul by prayer. 
 
 " Mademoiselle will have the goodness to give 
 me ten* francs," said Dhir^e, on her return. " I 
 have ordered everything that is proper, but money 
 is wanting to pay for some little articles that will 
 soon come." ' 
 
 " I have no money, Dhir^e — not even a sou." 
 
 " No money, mademoiselle? In the name of 
 heaven, how are we to bury your grandmother? " 
 
 "The handkerchief — " 
 
 D/sir/e shook her head, and saw that she must 
 countermand most of her" orders. Still she was 
 human, and she was a female. She could not 
 
 MS. alterations: '" herself " is an after-insertion; ^ori- 
 ginally "revive"; ^ after "strength" was originally 
 written, "if possible "; * originally " five " ; ' this portion 
 was originally written, "some things that have come." 
 
 «MS. alone; the other authorities have "the." 
 
96 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 altogether desert one so helpless, in a moment 
 of such extreme distress. She reflected on the 
 matter for a minute or two, and opened her 
 mind. 
 
 " This handkerchief might sell for forty-five 
 francs, mademoiselle," she said, "and I will pay 
 that much for it myself, and will charge nothing 
 for my services to-day. Your dear grandmother 
 must have Christian burial, that is certain, ' and 
 poor enough will that be which is had for two 
 napoleons. What say you, mademoiselle — will 
 you accept the forty-five francs, or would you 
 prefer seeing the marchatide de modes? " 
 
 " I can see no one, now, Dhir^e. Give me the 
 money, and do honor to the remains of my dear, 
 dear^ grandmother." 
 
 Adrienne said this, with her hands resting on 
 her lap, in quiescent despair. Her eyes were 
 hollow and vacant, her cheeks bloodless, her 
 mind almost as helpless as that of an infant. 
 Dhir^e laid down two napoleons, keeping the five 
 francs to pay for some necessaries, and then she 
 took me in her hands, as if to ascertain whether 
 she had done too much. Satisfied on this head, 
 I was carefully replaced in the casket, when the 
 commissionaire went out again, on her errands, 
 honorably disposed to be useful. Still she did 
 not deem it necessary to conceal her employer's 
 
 ' MS., " that is certain " is an after-insertion. 
 'MS., " dear, dear" is an after-insertion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 97 
 
 poverty, which was soon divulged to the por- 
 teress, and by her to the bourgeois. 
 
 Adrienne had now the means of purchasing 
 food, but, ignorant how much might be demanded 
 on behalf of the approaching ceremony, she 
 religiously adhered to the use of dry bread. 
 When Ddsirie returned in the evening, she told 
 the poor girl that the convoi was arranged for the 
 following morning, that she had ordered all in 
 the most economical way, but that thirty-five 
 francs were the lowest sou for which the funeral 
 could be had. Adrienne counted out the money, 
 and then found herself the mistress of just four 
 francs ten sous. When D^sirie took her leave for 
 the night, she placed me in her basket, and car- 
 ried me to her own' lodgings, in virtue of her 
 purchase. 
 
 I was laid upon a table, where I could look 
 through an open window up at the void of 
 heaven. It was glittering with those bright stars 
 which the astronomers tell us are suns of other 
 systems, and the scene gradually drew me to 
 reflections on that eternity which is before us, 
 and ^ my feelings got to be gradually soothed, as 
 I remembered the moment of time that all are 
 required to endure injustice and wrongs on earth. 
 Some such reflections are necessary to induce us 
 
 ' MS., " own " is an after-insertion. 
 
 2 As in MS., the printed versions omitting "and," and 
 beginning a new sentence witli " My.'' 
 
98 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 to submit to the mysterious reign of Providence, 
 whose decrees so often seem unequal, and whose 
 designs are so inscrutable. By remembering 
 what a speck is time, as compared with eternity, 
 and that " God chasteneth those He loveth," the 
 ills of life may be borne, even with joy.' 
 
 The manner in which Disirie disposed of me 
 shall be related in the next chapter.'' 
 
 'MS., the sentence beginning "By remembering" and 
 ending "with joy," is a later modification of Mr. Cooper's. 
 Originally after the sentence ending with the word "in- 
 scrutable," came the following: " I saw Adrienne no more, 
 for Dhir^e soon disposed of tne, in the manner I shall 
 presently relate." After this was "(To be continued)," 
 which was erased, and the same words inserted at the real 
 end of the section. 
 
 ^ MS. This is the end of the first installment (unchaptered) 
 in Graham's Magazine; hence in the MS. the ending reads, 
 " shall be related in another number. (To be continued)." 
 Of course, in the Brother Jonathan andBentley editions, as 
 they were divided into chapters, the wording was appro- 
 priately altered as given in the text. 
 
 Page 26 of the MS. has at the top the half-dozen lines of 
 the ending of this section. Written in the centre of the 
 page is the following note; 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 I send the copy by mail, for want of a private opportu- 
 nity. It is so expensive, however, as not to be continued. 
 Let me have early proofs, and by no means print without 
 them. Yours truly, 
 
 J. Fenimore Cooper. 
 Rev. Mr. Griswold. 
 
 I shall bring Adrienne on the scene again, and have a 
 little altered the plan to do so." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 
 
 99 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The reader is not to infer that Dhir^e was 
 unusually mercenary. That she was a little 
 addicted to this weakness is true — who ever 
 knew a commissionaire that was not ? — but she 
 had her moments of benevolence as well as others, 
 and had really made some sacrifice of her time, 
 and consequently of her interests, in order to 
 serve Adrienne in her distress. As for the pur- 
 chase of myself, that was in the way of her com- 
 merce;^ and, it is seldom, indeed, that philan- 
 thropy can overcome the ■* habits of trade. 
 
 Dhirie was not wholly without means, and she 
 was in no hurry to reap the benefit of her pur- 
 chase. I remained in her possession, according 
 to my calculations,' some two or three years* 
 before she even ^ took me out of the drawer in 
 which I had been deposited for safe-keeping. I 
 was considered a species of corps de reserved At 
 the end of that period, however, her thoughts 
 
 MS. alterations: 'Originally "trade"; ''"the" is an 
 after-insertion. 
 
 ^MS. ; the others, "calculation." 
 
 ^ MS., originally, "some two or three months," then 
 " some three or four years," finally as in text. 
 
 'MS.; the others, "ever." 
 
 «MS., This entire sentence is an after-insertion. 
 
lOO AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 recurred to her treasure/ and an occasion soon 
 offered^ for turning me to account. I was put 
 into the reticule, and carried about, in readiness 
 for any suitable bargain that might turn up.' 
 
 One day Dhir^e and I were on the Boulevards 
 Italians together, when a figure caught the com- 
 missionaire's eye that sent her across the street 
 in a great hurry. I scarcely know how to de- 
 scribe this person, who, to my simple eyes, had 
 the appearance of a colonel of the late Royal 
 Guards, or, at least, of * an attache of one of the 
 northern legations. He was dressed in the height 
 of the latest fashion, as well as he knew how to 
 be ; wore terrible moustaches, and had a rare pro- 
 vision of rings, eye-glasses, watch-guards, chains, 
 &c. 
 
 " Bon jour, Monsieur," exclaimed Dhirie, in 
 haste, "parole dhonneur, I scarcely knew you! I 
 have been waiting for your return from Lyons, 
 with the most lively impatience, for, to tell you 
 the truth, I have the greatest bijou for your Am- 
 erican ladies, that ever came out of a bleaching 
 ground — tin m.ouckoir de poche." 
 
 " Doucefnent — doucem£nt, ma bonne," interrupted 
 the other, observing that the woman was about 
 to exhibit me on the open Boulevards, an 
 expos^ for which he had no longings, " you can 
 bring it to my lodgings — " 
 
 MS. alterations: '^ "me" replaced by "her treasure"; 
 ^originally, "ocrurrcd " ; '" offer " replaced by "turnup"; 
 ^" at least, of " is an after-insertion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. loi 
 
 " Rue de Clery, num^ro cent vingt — " 
 
 " Not at all, my good Dhir^e. You must know 
 I have transacted all my ordinary business — made 
 my purchases, and am off for New York in the 
 next packet — " 
 
 ''Mais, le malle, Monsieur? " 
 
 "Yes; the trunk will have a corner in it for 
 anything particular, as you say. I shall go to 
 court this evening, to a great ball, Madame la 
 Marquise de Dolomien and the Aide de Camp de 
 Service having just notified me that I am invited. 
 To ' be frank with you, Dhirh, I am lodging ' m 
 la Rue de la Paix, and appear, just now, as a 
 mere traveler. You will inquire for le Colonel 
 Silky, when you call." 
 
 " Z^ Colonel 5V//&y.''" repeated Dhir^e, with a 
 look of admiration, a little mingled with con- 
 tempt. 
 
 "De la garde nationale Am^ricaine," answered 
 Mr Silky, smiling. He then gave the woman his 
 new' address, and appointed an hour to see her. 
 
 Disirie was punctual to a minute. The porter, 
 the garqons, the bourgeois, all knew le Colonel Silky, 
 who was now a great man, wore moustaches, and 
 went to court — as the court was. In a minute 
 the commissionaire was in the colonel's * ante- 
 chamber. This distinguished^ officer had'^ a 
 
 MS. alterations: 'Originally "and to"; ^ originally "now 
 lodging"; the following are after-insertions: ^ " new " ; 
 ■""colonel's"; '"distinguished"; * originally " however, 
 had." 
 
I02 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 method in his madness. He was not accustomed 
 to keeping a body-servant, and, as his aim was to 
 make a fortune, will-ye, nill-ye," he managed, 
 even now, in his hours of pride and self-indul- 
 gence, to get along without one. It was not 
 many moments,^ therefore, before he came out 
 and ushered^ Dhirh himself into )\\s salon, a room 
 of ten feet by fourteen, with a carpet that covered 
 just eight feet by six, in its centre. Now that 
 they were alone, in this snuggery, which seemed 
 barely large enough to contain so great a man's 
 moustaches, the parties understood each other 
 without unnecessary phrases, and I was, at once, 
 produced. 
 
 Colonel Silky was evidently struck with my 
 appearance. An officer* of his readiness and 
 practice, saw at once that I might be made to 
 diminish no small part of the ways and means of 
 his present campaign, and, precisely in propor- 
 tion as he admired^ me, he began to look cold 
 and indifferent. This management could not de- 
 ceive me, my clairvoyance defying any such arti- 
 fices; but, it had a sensible effect on Disir^e, who 
 happening very much * to want money for a par- 
 ticular object, just at that moment, determined, 
 
 MS. alterations: 'The following is also an after-insertion: 
 "as his aim was to make a fortune, will-ye, nill-ye"; 
 ^ " many moments " replaces " long " ; ^originally "ushered 
 in"; ■'"An officer" replaces " A man ";'" admired " re- 
 places some other word, lost by reason of a burnt-out space 
 in the MS. ; ' " very much " is an after-insertion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 103 
 
 on the spot, to abate no less than fifty francs from 
 the price she had intended to ask. This was de- 
 ducting five francs more than poor Adrienne got 
 for the money she had expended, for her beauti- 
 ful lace, and for all her toil, sleepless nights, and 
 tears, a proof of the commissionaire's scale of 
 doing business. The bargain was now com- 
 menced in earnest, offering an instructive scene of 
 French protestations, assertions, contradictions, 
 and volubility, on one side, and of cold, seem- 
 ingly phlegmatic, but wily, Yankee calculation, 
 on the other. Dhir^e had set her price at one 
 hundred and fifty francs, after abating the fifty 
 mentioned, and Colonel Silky had early made up 
 his mind to give only one hundred. After mak- 
 ing suitable allowances for my^ true value before 
 I was embellished, the cost of the lace and the 
 work, Desir^e was not far from the mark; but the 
 Colonel saw that she wanted money, and he knew 
 that two napoleons arid a half, with his manage- 
 ment, would carry him from Paris to Havre. It 
 is true he had spent the difference that morning 
 on an eye-glass that he never used, or when he 
 did, it was only to obscure his vision; but' the 
 money was not lost, as it aided in persuading the 
 world he was a colonel,* and was afflicted with 
 that genteel defect, an imperfect vision. — -These 
 
 MS. alterations: ' Originally " certain proof " ; ^originally 
 "the"; 'originally "but then"; *the remainder of the 
 sentence following "colonel" is an after-insertion. 
 
I04 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 extremes of extravagance and meanness were not 
 unusual in his practice; the one, in truth, being a 
 consequence of the other. 
 
 " You forget the duty, Desir^e," observed the 
 military trader; " this compromise law is a thou- 
 sand times worse than any law we have ever had ' 
 in America." 
 
 "The duty!" repeated the woman, with an in- 
 credulous smile. " Monsieur, you are not so 
 young as to pay any duty on a pocket-handker- 
 chief ! Ma foi, I will ' bring twenty, oui, a thou- 
 sand, from England itself, and the donaniers shall 
 not stop one." 
 
 "Aye, but we don't smuggle in America," re- 
 turned the colonel, with an aplomb that might 
 have done credit to Vidocq' himself. "In our 
 republican country the laws are all in all." 
 
 " Why do so many of your good republicans 
 dress so that ■* the rue de Clery don't know them, 
 and then go to the chateau?" demanded the com- 
 missionaire, very innocently, as to appearance, ' at 
 least. 
 
 "Bah! There are the five napoleons — if you 
 want them, take them — if not, I care little about 
 it, my invoice being all closed." 
 
 D^sir^e never accepted money more reluctantly. 
 
 'MS., "had yet." 
 
 ^MS., originally, "would." 
 
 ^Bentley, "aVidocq. " 
 
 *MS., " that " is an after-insertion. 
 
 'MS., originally, "air." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 105 
 
 Instead of making one hundred and fifty-five 
 francs out of the toil, and privations, and self- 
 denial of poor Adrienne, she' found her own 
 advantages unexpectedly lessened to fifty-five, or 
 only a trifle more than one hundred per cent. 
 But the colonel was firm, and, for once, her 
 cupidity was compelled to succumb. The money 
 was paid, and I became the vassal of Colonel 
 Silky, a titular soldier, but a traveling trader, who 
 never lost sight of the main chance, either in his 
 campaigns, his journeys, or his pleasures. 
 
 To own the truth, Colonel Silky was delighted 
 with me. No girl could be a better judge of the 
 article, and all his cultivated taste ran into the 
 admiration of goods. I was examined with the 
 closest scrutiny; my merits were' inwardly ap- 
 plauded, and my demerits pronounced to be 
 absolutely none. In short, I was flattered; for, 
 it must be confessed, the commendation of even 
 a fool is grateful. So far from placing me in a 
 trunk, or a drawer, the colonel, actually put me 
 in his pocket, though duly enveloped and with 
 great care, and for some time I trembled in every 
 delicate fibre, lest, in a moment of forgetfulness, 
 he might use me. But my new master had no 
 such intention. His ' object in taking me out was 
 to consult a sort of court commissionaire, with whom 
 he had established certain relations, and that, too, 
 
 MS. alterations: ' " but here " originally preceded "she "; 
 2 " were " is an after-insertion; 'originally "intention, 
 though his." 
 
lo6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 at some little cost, on the propriety of using me, 
 himself, that evening, at the chateau ' of the King 
 of the French. Fortunately, his monitress, 
 though by no means of the purest water, knew 
 better than to suffer her ^leve ' to commit so gross 
 a blunder, and I escaped the calamity of making 
 my first appearance at court under the auspices 
 of such a patron. ' 
 
 There was a moment, too, when the colonel 
 thought of presenting me to Madame de Dolo- 
 mien, by the way of assuring his favor in the royal 
 circle, but when he came to count up the money 
 he should lose in the way of profits, this idea be- 
 came painful, and it was abandoned. ■* As often 
 happened with this gentleman, he reasoned so 
 long in all his acts of liberality, that he supposed 
 a sufficient sacrifice had been made in the mental 
 discussions, ' and he never got beyond what sur- 
 geons call the "first intention" of his moral 
 cures. * The evening he went to court, therefore, 
 I was carefully consigned to a carton in the 
 colonel's trunk, whence I did not again issue 
 until my arrival in America. Of the voyage, 
 therefore, I have little to say, not having had ' a 
 sight of the ocean at all. I cannot afifirm that I 
 
 MS. alterations; 'Originally" court"; ^"^Ikve" replaces 
 "partner," which Mr. Cooper started to write; '"Col. 
 Silky " is replaced by "such a patron"; ^originally this 
 ending was " this idea was abandoned " ; ' " mental discus- 
 sions " replaces "way of time"; '"cures" replaces 
 " applications of this nature"; '"had" is an after-inser- 
 tion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 107 
 
 was absolutely seasick, but, on the other hand, I 
 cannot add ' that I was perfectly well during any 
 part of the passage. The pent air of the state- 
 room, and a certain heaviness about the brain, 
 quite incapacitated me from enjoying anything 
 that passed, and that was a happy moment when 
 our trunk was taken on deck to be examined. 
 The custom-house officers at New York were not 
 men likely to pick out a pocket-handkerchief 
 from a gentleman's — I beg pardon, from a 
 colonel's — wardrobe, and I passed unnoticed ^ 
 among sundry other of my employer's specula- 
 tions. I call the colonel my employer, though 
 this was not strictly ' true, for, * heaven be 
 praised! he never did employ ^ me ; but ever since 
 my arrival in America, my gorge has so risen 
 against the word " master " that I cannot make 
 up my mind to write it. I know there is an in- 
 genious substitute, as the following little dialogue 
 will show, but my early education under the 
 astronomer and the delicate-minded Adrienne 
 has rendered me averse to false " taste, ' and I 
 find the substitute as disagreeable as the original. 
 The conversation to which I allude occurred be- 
 tween me and a very respectable looking shirt 
 that I happened to be hanging next to on a line, 
 
 MS. alterations: ' Originally " state "; ^ " unnoticed " is 
 an after-insertion; "originally "particularly"; * " for " is 
 an after-insertion; '"did employ" replaces "owned"; 
 •originally "all false"; 'the remainder of the sentence 
 following "taste" is an after-insertion. 
 
io8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 a few days after my arrival; the colonel having 
 judged ' it prudent to get me washed and properly 
 ironed before he carried me into the " market." 
 
 " Who is your boss, pocket-handkerchief? " 
 demanded the shirt, a perfect stranger to me, by 
 the way, for I had never seen him before the 
 accidents of the wash-tub brought us in collision; 
 " who is your boss, pocket-handkerchief, I say ? — 
 You are so very fine, I should like to know some- 
 thing of your history." 
 
 From all I had heard and read, I was satisfied 
 my neighbor was a Yankee shirt, both from his 
 curiosity and from his abrupt manner of asking 
 questions ; still I was at a loss to know the mean- 
 ing of the word boss, my clairvoyance being 
 totally at fault. ^ It belongs to no language known 
 to the savans or academicians. 
 
 "I am not certain, sir," I answered, "that I 
 understand your meaning. What is a boss?" 
 
 "Oh! that's only a republican word for 
 ' master.' Now, Judge Latitat is my boss, and a 
 very good one ^ he is, with the exception of his 
 sitting so late at night, at his infernal circuits, by* 
 the light of miserable tallow candles. But all 
 the judges are alike for that, keeping a poor shirt 
 up sometimes until midnight, listening to° cursed 
 dull lawyers, and prosy, caviling, witnesses." 
 
 MS. alterations: ' " having judged" replaces "judging"; 
 ^originally this portion was, "and my clairvoyance was at 
 fault"; ^originally " boss " ; 'originally "and that by"; 
 'originally " to their. " 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 109 
 
 " I beg' you to recollect, sir, that I am a female 
 pocket-handkerchief, and persons of your sex^ are 
 bound to use temperate and proper language in 
 the presence of ladies." ^ 
 
 " Yes, I see you are feminine, by your orna- 
 ments — still, you might tell a fellow who is your 
 boss? "* 
 
 " I belong, at present, to Colonel Silky, if that 
 is what you mean ;^ but I presume some fair 
 lady will soon do me the honor of transferring me 
 to her own wardrobe. No doubt my future em- 
 ployer" — is not that the word? — will be one of 
 the most beautiful and distinguished ladies of 
 New York." 
 
 "No question of that, as money makes both 
 beauty and distinction, in this part of the world, 
 and it's not a dollar that will buy you. Colonel 
 Silky? I don't remember the name — which of 
 our editors is he? " 
 
 " I don't think he is an editor at all. At least, I 
 never heard he was employed about any publica- 
 tion, and, to own the truth, he does not appear to 
 me to be particularly qualified for such a duty, 
 either by native capacity, or, its substitute, edu- 
 cation." ' 
 
 MS. alterations: ^ Originally " now beg " ; ^ " persons of 
 your sex " replaces "gentlemen"; 'originally " the sex " ; 
 'originally "employer"; '"if that is what you mean" is 
 an after-insertion; ^originally "bosses"; 'Mr. Cooper 
 started to transpose his comparison thus: "either by edu- 
 cation, or its substitute, native capacity." 
 
no AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 "Oh! that makes no great' difference — half 
 the corps'^ is exactly in the same predicament. I 
 'fegs ! if we waited for colonels, or editors either, 
 in this country, until we got such as were qualified, 
 we should get no news, and be altogether without 
 politics,'' and then * the militia would soon be in 
 an awful state. 
 
 "This is very extraordinary! So' you do not 
 wait, but take them as they come. And what 
 state is your militia actually in? " 
 
 " Awful ! It is what my boss,' the judge, some- 
 times calls a ' statu quo. ' " 
 
 "And the newspapers — and the news — and 
 the politics?" 
 
 "Why, they are fwt in ' stalu quo' — but in a 
 'semper eadem' — I' beg pardon, do you under- 
 stand Latin? " 
 
 "No, sir — ladies do not often study the dead 
 languages." 
 
 " If they did they would soon bring 'em to 
 life ! ' Semper eadem ' is Latin for ' worse and 
 worse.' The militia is drilling into a 'statu quo,' 
 and the press is enlightening mankind with a 
 'semper eadem.' " 
 
 After properly thanking my neighbor for these 
 useful explanations, we naturally fell into dis- 
 
 MS. alterations: '"great" is an after-insertion; ^ after 
 "corps" came, originally, " of editorial colonels"; '"and 
 be altogether without polit'ics " was, originally, " nor any 
 politics "; * " then " is in MS. only; "originally " And so " ; 
 '"my boss " is an after-insertion; 'originally, "but I." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. in 
 
 course about matters and things in general, the 
 weather in America being uniformly too fine to 
 admit of discussion. 
 
 " Pray, sir," said I, trembling lest my boss 
 might be a colonel of the editorial corps, after 
 all — "pray, sir," said I, "is it expected, in this 
 country, that the wardrobe should entertain the 
 political sentiments of its boss?" 
 
 " I rather think not, unless it might be in high 
 party times; or,' in the case of editors, and such 
 extreme patriots. I have ^ several relatives ' that 
 belong to the corps, and they all tell me that 
 while their bosses very frequently change their 
 coats, they are by no means so particular about 
 changing their shirts. But, you are of foreign 
 birth, ma'am,* I should think, by your dress and 
 appearance? " 
 
 "Yes, sir. I came quite recently from France; 
 though my employer being American, I suppose 
 I am entitled to the rights of citizenship. Are 
 you European, also?" 
 
 "No, ma'am; I am native and to the 'manor 
 born,' as the modern Shakspeare has it. Is 
 Louis Philippe likely to maintain the throne, in 
 France? " 
 
 MS. aUerations : ^OriginSiUy "a.nd"; ^originally "know"; 
 ^originally "shirts," then "garments," finally "relatives"; 
 ^originally " sir." 
 
 Note. — This story was "'ritten during or soon after the 
 celebrated libel suits brought by Cooper, against Benjamin, 
 Webb, Weed, Greeley, Colonel Stone, and other noted editors 
 of newspapers. 
 
112 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 " That is not so certain, sir, by what I learn, as 
 that the throne is likely to maintain Louis Phi- 
 lippe. To own the truth to you, I am a Carlist, 
 as all genteel articles are, and I enter but little 
 into the subject of Louis Philippe's reign." 
 
 This remark made me melancholy, by reviving 
 the recollection of Adrienne, and the conversation 
 ceased. An hour or two later, I was removed 
 from the line, properly ironed, and returned to 
 my boss. The same day I was placed in a shop 
 in Broadway, belonging to a firm of which I now 
 understood the colonel was a sleeping partner. 
 A suitable entry was made against me, in a pri- 
 vate memorandum-book, which, as I once had an 
 opportunity of seeing it, I will give here. 
 
 Super-extraordinary Pocket-Handkerchief, French cambric, 
 trimmed and worked, in ac. with Bobbinet &' Gull. 
 Dr. 
 
 To money paid first cost — francs lOo — at 5.25 $19.04,^ 
 
 To interest on same for 
 
 To portion of passage money .04 
 
 To porterage -ooX 
 
 To washing and making up .25 
 
 (Mem. See if a deduction cannot be made from this 
 charge.) 
 
 Cr. 
 By cash for allowing Miss Thimble to copy pattern, 
 
 not to be worked until our article is sold i.oo 
 
 By cash for sale, &c 
 
 Thus the account stood the day I was first of- 
 fered to the admiration of the fair of New York. 
 Mr. Bobbinet, however, was in no hurry to ex- 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 113 
 
 hibit me, having several articles of less beauty, 
 that he was anxious to get off first. For my part 
 I was as desirous ' of being produced, as ever a 
 young lady was to come out; and, then, my com- 
 panions in the drawer were not of the most agree- 
 able character. We were all pocket-handker- 
 chiefs together, and all of French birth. Of the 
 whole party, I was the only one that had been 
 worked by a real lady, and, consequently, my 
 education was manifestly superior to those of my 
 companions. They could scarcely be called 
 comme il faut, at all;''' though, to own the truth, I 
 am afraid there is tant soit peu de vulgarity about 
 all worked pocket-handkerchiefs. I remember 
 that, one day, when Madame de la Rocheaimard 
 and Adrienne were discussing the expediency of 
 buying our whole piece, with the view of offering 
 us to their benefactress, the former, who had a 
 fine tact in matters of this sort, expressed a doubt 
 whether the Dauphine would be pleased with such 
 an offering. 
 
 " Her Royal Highness, like all cultivated 
 minds, looks for fitness in her ornaments and 
 tastes. What fitness is there, ma cMre, in con- 
 verting an article of real use, and which should 
 not be paraded to one's associates, into an article 
 of senseless luxury. I know there are two doc- 
 trines on this important point — " 
 
 ' Bentley, "anxious." 
 
 2 MS., " at all " is an after-insertion. 
 
114 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 But, as I shall have occasion, soon, to go into 
 the whole philosophy of this matter, when I come 
 to relate the manner of my next purchase, I will 
 not stop here to relate all that Madame de la 
 Rocheaimard said. It is sufficient that she, a 
 woman of tact in such matters, at least, had 
 strong doubts concerning the taste and propriety 
 of using worked pocket-handkerchiefs, at all. 
 
 My principal objection to my companions in 
 the drawer was their incessant and senseless re- 
 pinings about France, and their abuse of the 
 country in which they were to pass their lives. I 
 could see enough in America to find fault with, 
 through the cracks ' of the drawer, ^ and ' if an 
 American, ' I might have indulged a little in the 
 same way, myself; for, I am not one of those 
 who think fault-finding belongs properly to the 
 stranger, and not to the native. It is the proper 
 office of the latter, as it is his duty, to amend 
 these faults; the traveler being bound, in justice 
 to look at the good as well as the evil. But, 
 according to my companions, there was nothing 
 good in America— the climate, the people, the 
 food, the morals, the laws, the dress, the man- 
 ners, and the tastes, were all infinitely worse 
 than those they had been accustomed to. 
 Even the physical proportions of the population 
 
 ' " Creaks," in the printed versions. 
 
 MS. alterations: ^"through the cracks of the drawer' 
 an after-insertion; ^ origi 
 nally "an American myself.' 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 115 
 
 were condemned, without mercy. I confess I 
 was surprised at hearing the size of the Americans 
 sneered at by pocket-handkerchiefs, as I remember 
 to have read that the noses of the New Yorkers, 
 in particular, were' materially larger than com- 
 mon. When the supercilious and vapid point out 
 faults, they ever run into contradictions and folly; 
 it is only under the lash^ of the discerning and 
 the experienced, that we betray, by our' writh- 
 ings, the power of the blow we receive. 
 
 MS. alterations: 'This portion originally was written; 
 " that their «<)j?j were " ; ''originally " sting " ; 'originally 
 '■ our own." 
 
ll6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 I might have been a fortnight in the shop, 
 when I heard a voice, as gentle and lady-like as 
 that of Adrienne, inquiring for pocket-handker- 
 chiefs. My heart fairly beat for joy; for, to own 
 the truth, I was getting to be wearied to death 
 with the garrulous folly of my companions. They 
 had so much of the couturikres about them! Not 
 one of the whole party ever ' having had a regu- 
 lar employer in genteel life. Their niaiseries were 
 endless, and there was just as much of the low- 
 bred anticipation as to their future purchasers, as 
 one sees at the balls of the Champs- Ely s^es, on the 
 subject of partners. The word " pocket-handker- 
 chief," and that so sweetly pronounced, drew 
 open our drawer, as it might be, instinctively. 
 Two or three dozen of us, all of exquisite fine- 
 ness, were laid upon the counter, myself and two 
 or three more of the better class being kept a 
 little in the back-ground, as a skillful general 
 holds his best troops in reserve.^ 
 
 The customers were sisters;' that was visible at 
 a glance. Both were pretty, almost beautiful — 
 
 ' Printed versions ; " ever having been a regular employee." 
 MS. alterations .-"^ This ending w&s originally "holds his 
 reserves in hand " ; ^ originally " two sisters." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 117 
 
 and there was an air of simplicity about their 
 dress a quiet and unobtrusive dignity in their 
 manners which at once announced them to be 
 real ladies. Even the tones of their voices were 
 polished, a circumstance that I think one is a 
 little ' apt to notice in New York. I discovered, 
 in the course of the conversation, that they were 
 the daughters of a gentleman of very large estate, 
 and belonged to the true ilite of the country. 
 The manner in which the clerks received them, 
 indeed, proclaimed this; for, though their other 
 claims might not have so promptly extracted this 
 homage, their known wealth would. 
 
 Mr. Bobbinet attended these customers in per- 
 son. Practiced in all that portion of human 
 knowledge which appertains to a salesman, he let 
 the^ sweet girls select two or three dozen hand- 
 kerchiefs of great beauty, but totally without 
 ornament, and even pay for them, before he said 
 a word on the subject of the'' claims of his re- 
 served corps. When he thought the proper mo- 
 ment had arrived, however, one of the least dec- 
 orated of our party was offered to the considera- 
 tion of the young ladies. The sisters were named 
 Anne and Maria, and I could see, by the pleasure 
 that beamed in the soft blue eyes of the former, 
 that she was quite enchanted with the beauty of 
 the article laid before her so unexpectedly. I 
 
 MS. alterations: ' "a little" is an after-insertion; ^ origi- 
 nally "the two"; ^originally "our." 
 
Il8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 believe it is m female " human nature " to admire 
 everything that is graceful and handsome, and 
 especially when it takes the form of needle-work. 
 The sweet girls praised ' handkerchief after hand- 
 kerchief, until / was laid before them, when their 
 pleasure extracted exclamations of delight. All 
 was done so quietly, however, and in so lady-like 
 a manner, that the attention of no person in the 
 shop was drawn to them by this ^ natural indul- 
 gence of surprise. Still I observed that neither 
 of the young ladies inquired the prices, these be- 
 ing considerations that had no influence on the 
 intrinsic value, in their eyes; while the circum- 
 stance caused my heart to sink within me, as it 
 clearly proved they did not intend to purchase, ' 
 and I longed to become the property of the 
 gentle, serene-eyed Anne. After thanking Mr. 
 Bobbinet for the trouble he had taken, they 
 ordered their purchases sent home, and were 
 about to quit the shop. 
 
 "Can't I persuade you to take /^m.? " demanded 
 Bobbinet, as they were turning away. "There 
 is not its equal in America. Indeed, one of the 
 house, our Colonel Silky,* who has ' just returned 
 from Paris, says it was worked expressly for the 
 
 ' MS., originally "admired." 
 ^Bentley, "the." 
 
 'MS., originally, " purchase either of us." 
 *MS., "the house, our Colonel SiUy," replaces "our 
 partners." 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley, "had." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 119 
 
 Dauphine,^ who was prevented from getting it by 
 the late revolution." 
 
 " It is a pity so much beautiful ^ lace and such 
 exquisite work should be ' put on a pocket- * hand- 
 kerchief," said Anne, almost involuntarily. " I 
 fear if they ^ were on something more suitable, I 
 might buy them." 
 
 A smile, a slight blush, and curtsy con- 
 cluded the interview; and the young ladies 
 hastily " left the shop, Mr. Bobbinet was dis- 
 appointed, as, indeed, was Col. Silky, who was 
 present, en amateur; but the matter could not be 
 helped, as these were customers who acted and 
 thought for themselves, and all the oily persua- 
 sion' of shop-eloquence could not influence them. 
 
 "It is quite surprising, Colonel," observed Mr. 
 Bobbinet, when his customers were properly out 
 of hearing, " that these young ladies should let 
 such an article slip through their fingers. Their 
 father is one of the richest men we have; and yet 
 they never even asked the price ! " 
 
 " I fancy it was not so much "Cae: price that held 
 'em back," observed the colonel, in his elegant 
 way, " as something else. There are a sort of 
 
 'MS., " Dauphiness." 
 
 2 " beautiful " is in the MS. only. 
 
 °MS., originally "is," then " are," finally "should be." 
 
 •■MS., "pocket" is an after-insertion. 
 ' ''MS., originally, "it." 
 
 MS. alterations: ^"hastily" is an after-insertion; 'ori- 
 ginally "eloquence." 
 
I20 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 customers that don't buy promiscuously; they ' do 
 everything by rule. They don't believe that a 
 night-cap is intended for a bed-quilt." 
 
 Bobbinet & Co. did not exactly understand his 
 more sophisticated partner; but^ before he had 
 time to ask an explanation, the appearance of an- 
 other customer caused his face to brighten, and 
 changed ' the current of his thoughts. The per- 
 son who now entered was an exceedingly brilliant- 
 looking girl of twenty, dressed in the height of 
 fashion,* and extremely well, though a severe 
 critic might have thought she was over dressed 
 for the streets; still* she had alighted from a car- 
 riage. Her face was decidedly handsome, and 
 her person exquisitely proportioned. As a whole, 
 I had scarcely ever seen a young creature that 
 could lay claim to more of the loveliness of her 
 sex. Both the young ladies who had just left us 
 were pleasing and pretty; and, to own the truth, 
 there was an air of modest refinement about them, 
 that was not so apparent in this new visitor; but 
 the dazzling appearance of the latter, at first, 
 blinded me to her faults, and I saw nothing but 
 her perfection. The interest manifested by the 
 master — I beg his pardon, the boss of the store ° — 
 and the agitation among the clerks, very plainly 
 
 MS. alterations: 'Originally "but"; ^originally "and"; 
 ^ " changed " was originally " to change." 
 
 ■•MS., " the fashion." 
 
 MS. alterations: 'Originally "though"; * "of thestore" 
 is an after-insertion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 121 
 
 proved that much was expected from the visit of 
 this young lady, who was addressed, with a cer- 
 tain air of shop-familiarity, as Miss Halfacre — a 
 familiarity that showed ' she was an habitude of 
 the place, and considered a good customer. 
 
 Luckily for the views of Bobbinet & Co., 
 we were all still lying on the counter. This is 
 deemed a fortunate circumstance in the contin- 
 gencies of this species of trade, since it enables 
 the dealer to offer his uncalled-for ^ -wares in the 
 least suspicious and most natural manner. It was 
 fortunate, also, that I lay at the bottom of the 
 little pile — a climax being quite as essential in 
 sustaining an extortionate price, as in terminating 
 with due effect," a poem, a tragedy or a romance. 
 
 " Good morning. Miss Halfacre," said Mr. 
 Bobbinet, bowing and smiling; if his face had 
 been half as honest as it professed to be, it would 
 ]xzM& grinned. "I am glad you have come in at 
 this moment, as we are about to put on sale some 
 of the rarest articles, in the way of pocket-hand- 
 kerchiefs, that have ever come to this market. 
 The Misses Burton have just seen them, and they 
 pronounce them the most beautiful articles* of 
 the sort they have ever seen; and I believe they 
 have been over half the world." 
 
 MS. alterations: ' Originally " proved " ; 2 " uncalled-for " 
 is an after-insertion, as is also ^ " with due effect," the 
 latter originally following " romance." 
 
 <MS., originally, "things." 
 
122 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 " And did they take any, Mr. Bobbinet? The 
 Miss Burtons are thought to have taste." 
 
 " They have not e.yidi.c\.\Y purchased, but I believe 
 each of them has a particular article' in her eye. 
 Here is one, ma'am; that is rather prettier than 
 any you have yet seen in New York. The price 
 is sixty dollars." 
 
 The word sixty was emphasized in a way to 
 show the importance that was attached to price — 
 that being a test of more than common impor- 
 tance, with the present customer. I sighed when 
 I remembered that poor Adrienne had received 
 but about ten dollars for me — an article worth so 
 much more than that there exhibited. 
 
 " It is really very pretty. Mr. Bobbinet; very 
 pretty; but Miss Monson bought one not quite as 
 pretty, at Lace's; and she paid sixty-^z'^, if I am 
 not mistaken." 
 
 " I dare say; we have them at much higher 
 prices. I showed you this, only that you might 
 see that our sixties are as handsome as Mr. Lace's 
 sixty-jftves. What do you think of this ? " 
 
 " That is a jewel! What is the price, Mr. Bob- 
 binet? " 
 
 "Why, we will let you have it for seventy, 
 though I do think it ought to bring five more." 
 
 "Surely^ you do not abate on pocket-handker- 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley contract "particular article" to 
 " particle " ! 
 
 ^MS., originally, "But, surely." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 123 
 
 chiefs? One doesn't like to have such a thing 
 too low." 
 
 " Ah, I may as well come to the point at once 
 with such a customer as yourself, Miss Halfacre; 
 here is the article on which I pride myself. That 
 article never was equalled in this market and 
 never will be." 
 
 I cannot repeat half the exclamations of de- 
 light which escaped the fair Eudosia, when I first 
 burst on her entranced eye. She turned me over 
 and over, examined me with palpitating bosom, 
 and once I thought she was about to kiss me; 
 then, in a trembling voice she demanded the 
 price. 
 
 " One hundred dollars, ma'am," answered Bob- 
 binet, solemnly. " Not a cent more, ' on my 
 honor." 
 
 " No, surely! " exclaimed Eudosia, with delight 
 instead of alarm. " Not a hundred !" 
 
 " One hundred. Miss Eudosia, to the last cent; 
 then ^ we scarcely make a living profit." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Bobbinet, this is the highest-priced 
 handkerchief that was ever sold in New York." ' 
 
 This was said with a sort of rapture, the fair 
 creature feeling all the advantage of having so 
 good an opportunity of purchasing so dear an 
 article. 
 
 MS. alterations: > Originally " less " ; ^ originally "and 
 then"; 'instead of" New York" Mr. Cooper originally 
 started to write " America." 
 
124 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 " In America, ma'am. It is the highest-priced 
 handkerchief, by twenty dollars, that ever crossed 
 the Atlantic. The celebrated Miss Jewel's, of 
 Boston, only cost seventy-nine." 
 
 "Only! Oh, Mr. Bobbinet, I ;wkj/ have it. It 
 is a perfect treasure! " 
 
 " Shall I send it. Miss Eudosia? Or don't you 
 like to trust it out of your sight? " 
 
 " Not yet, sir. To own the truth, I have not 
 so much money. I only came out to buy a few 
 trifles, and brought but fifty dollars with me, and 
 Pa insists on having no bills. I never knew any- 
 body as particular as Pa. But I will go instantly 
 home and show him the importance of the pur- 
 chase. You will not let the handkerchief be seen 
 for one hour — only one hour — and then you 
 shall hear from me." 
 
 To this Bobbinet assented. The ' young lady 
 tripped into her carriage, and was instantly 
 whirled from the door. In precisely forty-three 
 minutes, a maid entered, half out of breath, and 
 laid a note on the counter. The latter contained 
 Mr. Halfacre's check ^ for one hundred dollars, 
 and a request from the fair Eudosia that I " might 
 be delivered to her messenger. Everything was 
 done as she had desired, and in five minutes I 
 
 'MS., originally, "assented; and the." 
 ^ MS., " checque '' replaces " check." 
 ^ Bro. J. and Bentley, " it." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 125 
 
 was going up Broadway as fast as Honor O'Fla- 
 gherty's ' (for such was the name of the messen- 
 ger) little dumpy legs could carry me. ^ 
 
 •MS., originally, " O'Flagerty's " ; Bentley, " ©'Fla- 
 herty's. " 
 
 ^Bentley, "her." 
 
126 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Mr. Henry Halfacre was a speculator in town 
 lots — a profession that was, just then, in high 
 repute in the city of New York. For farms, and 
 all the more vulgar aspects of real estate, he had 
 a sovereign contempt ; but, offer him a bit of 
 land that could be measured by feet and inches, 
 and he was your man. Mr. Halfacre inherited 
 nothing ; but he was a man of what are called 
 energy and enterprise. In other words, he had a 
 spirit for running in debt, and never shrunk from 
 jeoparding property that, in truth, belonged to 
 his creditors. The very morning that his eldest 
 child, Eudosia, made her valuable acquisition, in 
 my person, Henry Halfacre, Esq., ^ was the owner 
 of several hundred lots on the island of Manhat- 
 tan ; of one hundred and twenty-three in the 
 city of Brooklyn ; of nearly as many in Williams- 
 burg ; of large, undivided ^ interests in Milwaukie, 
 Rock River, Moonville, and other similar places ; 
 besides owning a considerable part of a place 
 called Coney Island. In a word, the landed 
 estate of Henry Halfacre, Esq., ' "inventoried," 
 
 ' MS., " Esquire." 
 
 ^ MS., " undivided " is an after-insertion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 137 
 
 as he expressed it, just two millions, six hundred 
 and twelve thousand dollars ; a handsome sum, 
 it must be confessed, for a man who, when he 
 began his beneficent and energetic career in this 
 branch of business, was just twenty-three thou- 
 sand, four hundred and seventeen dollars worse 
 than nothing. It is true that there was some 
 drawback on all this prosperity, Mr. Halfacre's 
 bonds, notes, mortgages, and other liabilities 
 making a sum total that amounted to the odd six 
 hundred thousand dollars; this' still left him, 
 however, ^ a handsome paper balance of two mil- 
 lions. 
 
 Notwithstanding the amount of his "bills pay- 
 able," Mr. Halfacre considered himself a very 
 prudent man ; first, because he insisted on having 
 no book debts ; second, because he always took 
 another man's paper for a larger amount than he 
 had given of his own for any specific lot or lots ; 
 thirdly, and lastly, because he was careful to 
 " extend himself," at the risk of other persons. 
 There is no question, had ' all his lots been sold 
 as he had inventoried them, had his debts been 
 paid, and had he not spent his money a little 
 faster than it was bona fide made, that Henry 
 Halfacre, Esq., * would have been a very rich 
 man. As he managed, however, by means of 
 getting portions of the paper he received dis- 
 
 MS. alterations: ' Originally " but this " ; ^ " however " 
 is an after-insertion ; ' originally " that had " ; *"Esquire." 
 
128 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 counted, to maintain' a^ "five figure '" account 
 in the bank, and to pay all * current demands, he 
 began to be known as the rich Mr. Halfacre. But 
 one of his children, the fair Eudosia, was out ; 
 and, as she had some distance to make in the 
 better society of the town ere she could pass for 
 aristocratic, it was wisely determined that a 
 golden bridge should be thrown across the divid- 
 ing* chasm. A hundred-dollar pocket-handker- 
 chief, it was hoped, would serve for the ° key- 
 stone, and then all the ends of life would be 
 attained. As ' to a husband, a pretty girl like 
 Eudosia, and the daughter of a man of " four 
 figure " lots, might get one any day. 
 
 Honor O'Flagherty' was both short-legged 
 and short-breathed. She felt the full importance 
 of her mission; and, having an extensive ac- 
 quaintance among the other Milesians of the 
 town; and of her class, she stopped no less than 
 eleven times to communicate the magnitude of 
 Miss Dosy's ' purchase. To two particular favor- 
 
 MS. alterations: '^ " ^.o maintain" was originally "and 
 always maintained," then it was altered to " and always to 
 maintain," finally as in text; ^ after "a" was originally 
 " good." 
 
 ^All three printed versions give this as "fine figure," 
 and omit the quotation marks. 
 
 ^MS., originally, "his." 
 
 'MS., "dividing" is an after-insertion. 
 
 ' MS., originally, "a." 
 
 'MS., originally, "attained — for, as." 
 
 'Bentley persists in " O'Flaherty." 
 
 'The printed versions give it "Dosie's." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 129 
 
 ites she actually showed me, under solemn prom- 
 ise of secrecy; and to four others she promised a 
 peep some day, after her bossee ' had fairly ^ worn 
 me. In this manner my arrival was circulated 
 prematurely in certain coteries, the pretty mouths 
 and fine voices that spoke of my marvels, being 
 quite unconscious that they were circulating news 
 that had reached their ears viA Honor O'Fla- 
 gherty^ Biddy Noon, and Kathleen Brady. 
 
 Mr. Halfacre occupied a very ge7iteel residence, 
 in Broadway, where he, and his, enjoyed the full 
 benefit of all the dust, noise, and commotion, of 
 that great thoroughfare. This house had been 
 purchased and mortgaged — generally simultane- 
 ous operations with this great operator — as soon 
 as he had " inventoried " half a million. It was 
 a sort of patent of nobility to live in Broadway; 
 and the acquisition of such a residence was like 
 the purchase of a marquiseta in Italy. When 
 Eudosia was fairly in possession of a hundred- 
 dollar pocket-handkerchief, the great seal might 
 be said to be attached to the document that was 
 to elevate the * Halfacre's throughout all future 
 time. 
 
 Now the beautiful Eudosia — for beautiful, and 
 even lovely, this glorious-looking creature was, 
 
 ' Bentley, " basse." 
 ^MS., originally, "even." 
 'Bentley, " O'Flaherty." 
 ^MS., originally, "all the." 
 
130 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 in spite of a very badly-modulated voice, certain 
 inroads upon the fitness of things in the way of 
 expression, and a want of a knowledge of the 
 finesse of fine life — now the beautiful Eudosia 
 had an intimate friend named Clara Caverly,' 
 who was as unlike her as possible, in character, 
 education, habits, and appearance ; and, yet, who 
 was firmly her friend. The attachment was one 
 of childhood and accident — the two girls having 
 been neighbors and school-fellows until they had 
 got to like each other, after the manner in which 
 young people form such friendships, to wear 
 away under the friction of the world, and the 
 pressure of time. Mr. Caverly was a lawyer of 
 good practice, fair reputation, and respectable 
 family. His wife happened to be a lady from 
 her cradle, and the daughter had experienced the 
 advantage of as great a blessing. Still, Mr. 
 Caverly was what the world of New York, in 
 1832, called poor; that is to say, he had no 
 known bank-stock, did not own a lot on the island, 
 was a director of neither bank nor insurance 
 company, and lived in a modest two-story house, 
 in White Street. It is true, his practice supported 
 his family, and enabled him to invest in bonds 
 and mortgages two or three thousand a-year ; and 
 he owned the fee of some fifteen or eighteen 
 farms in Orange County, that were falling in from 
 
 ' MS., Mr. Cooper wrote originally a name that appears 
 to be "Cortright. " 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 131 
 
 three-lives leases, and which had been in his fam- 
 ily ever since the seventeenth century. But, at a 
 period of prosperity,' like that which prevailed in 
 1832, 3, 4, 5, and 6, the hereditary dollar was not 
 worth more than twelve-and-a-half' cents, as com- 
 pared with the "inventoried" dollar. As there 
 is something, after all, in a historical name, and 
 the Caverlys still had the best of it, in the way of 
 society, Eudosia was permitted to continue the 
 visits in White Street, even after her own family 
 were in full possession in Broadway, and Henry 
 Halfacre, Esq.,^ had got to be enumerated among 
 the Manhattan nabobs. Clara Caverly was in 
 Broadway, when Honor O'Flagherty* arrived 
 with me, out of breath, in consequence of the 
 shortness of her legs, and the necessity of making 
 up for lost time. 
 
 "There, Miss Dosie," cried the exulting house- 
 maid — for such was Honor's domestic rank, 
 though preferred to so honorable and confidential 
 a mission — "There, Miss Dosie, there it is, and 
 it's a jewel." 
 
 "What has Honor brought you moto .? " asked 
 Clara Caverly, in her quiet way, for she saw, by 
 the brilliant eyes and flushed cheeks of her friend,^ 
 that it was something the other would have 
 
 ■ MS., " of prosperity " is an after-insertion. 
 
 2 MS., "I2j^." 
 
 3 MS., " Esquire." 
 
 ^Bentley, "O'Flaherty." 
 
 "MS., " of her friend " is an after-insertion. 
 
132 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 pleasure in conversing about. " You make so 
 many purchases, dear Eudosia, that I should think 
 you would weary of them." 
 
 "What, weary of beautiful dresses? Never, 
 Clara,' never ! That might do for White Street, 
 but, in Broadway, one is never tired of such 
 things — see," laying me out at full length in her 
 lap, "this is a pocket-handkerchief — I wish your 
 opinion of it." 
 
 Clara examined me very closely, and, in spite 
 of something like a frown, and an expression of 
 dissatisfaction that gathered about her pretty 
 face — for Clara was pretty, too — I could detect 
 some of the latent feelings of the sex, as she 
 gazed at my exquisite lace, perfect ornamental 
 work, and unequalled fineness. Still, her educa- 
 tion and habits triumphed, and she would not 
 commend what she regarded as ingenuity mis- 
 spent, and tasteless, because senseless, luxury. 
 
 " This handkerchief cost one hundred dollars. 
 Clara," said Eudosia, deliberately and with em- 
 phasis ; imitating, as near as possible, the tone of 
 Bobbinet & Co. 
 
 " Is it possible, Eudosia ! What a sum to pay 
 for so useless ^ a thing ! " 
 
 " Useless ! Do you call a pocket-handkerchief 
 useless? " 
 
 " Quite so, when it is made in a way to render 
 
 'MS., originally, by error, "Eudosia." 
 ^ MS., " so useless " replaces " such." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 133 
 
 it out of the question to put it to the uses for 
 which it was designed. I should as soon think of 
 trimming gum-shoes ' with satin, as to trim a 
 handkerchief in that style." 
 
 "Style? Yes, I flatter myself it is style to 
 have a handkerchief that cost a hundred dollars. 
 Why, Clara,^ the highest priced thing of this sort, 
 that was ever before sold in New York, only 
 came to seventy-nine dollars. Mine is superior 
 to all, by twenty-one dollars ! " 
 
 Clara Caverly sighed. It was not with regret, 
 or envy, or any unworthy feeling, however ; it 
 was a fair, honest,^ moral sigh, that had its birth 
 in the thought of how much good a hundred dol- 
 lars might have done, properly applied. It was 
 under the influence of this feeling, too, that she 
 said, somewhat inopportunely it must be con- 
 fessed, though quite innocently — " Well, Eudosia, 
 I am glad you can afford such a luxury, at all 
 events. Now is a good time to get your sub- 
 scription to the Widows' and Orphans' Society. 
 Mrs. Thoughtful has desired me to ask for it 
 half a dozen times ; I * dare say it has escaped 
 you that you are quite a twelve-month in arrears." ' 
 
 "Now a good time to ask for three dollars ! 
 
 ' Bentley, " India-rubber shoes. " 
 2 The printed versions add the " Caverly." 
 ^MS., this portion was originally "for it was a good, 
 honest." 
 
 <MS., originally, "for, I." 
 * Printed versions, " arrear." 
 
134 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 What, just when I've paid a hundred dollars for 
 a pocket-handkerchief? That was not said with 
 your usual good sense, my dear. People must 
 be made of money to pay out so much at one 
 time." 
 
 "When may I tell Mrs. Thoughtful, then, that 
 you will send it to her? " 
 
 " I am sure that is more than I can say. Pa 
 will be in no hurry to give me more money soon, 
 and I want, at this moment, near a hundred dol- 
 lars' worth of articles of dress to make a decent 
 appearance. The Society can be in no such 
 hurry for its subscriptions ; they must amount ' 
 to a great deal." 
 
 " Not if never paid. Shall I lend you the 
 money — my mother gave me ten dollars this 
 morning, to make a few purchases, which I 
 can very well do without, until you can pay 
 me?" 
 
 '^ Do, dear girl — you are always one of the 
 best creatures in the world. How much is it? 
 three dollars, I believe." 
 
 " Six, if you pay the past and present year. I 
 will pay Mrs. Thoughtful before I go home. 
 But, dear Eudosia, I wish you had not bought 
 that foolish pocket-handkerchief." 
 
 " Foolish ! Do you call a handkerchief with 
 such lace, and all this magnificent work on it, 
 
 'MS., "they must amount" was originally "for they 
 amount." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 135 
 
 and which cost a hutidred dollars, foolish? Is it 
 foolish to have money, or to be thought rich? " 
 
 " Certainly not the first, though it may be 
 better not to be thought rich. I * wish to see 
 you always dressed with propriety, for you do 
 credit to your dress; but this handkerchief is out 
 of place." 
 
 " Out of place ! Now, hear me, Clara, though 
 it is to be a great secret. What do you think Pa 
 is worth? " 
 
 " Bless me, these are things I never think of. 
 I do not even know how much my own father is 
 worth. Mother tells me how much I may spend, 
 and I can want to learn no more." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Murray dined with Pa last week, 
 and they sat over their wine until near ten. I 
 overheard them talking, and got into this room 
 to listen, for I thought I should get something 
 new. At first, they said nothing but ' lots — 
 lots — up town — down town — twenty-five feet 
 front — dollar, dollar, dollar.' Lord,^ child, you 
 never heard such stuff in your life ! " 
 
 " One gets used to these things, notwithstand- 
 ing," observed Clara, dryly. 
 
 " Yes, one does hear a great deal of it. I shall 
 be glad when the gentlemen learn to talk of 
 something else. But the best is to come. At last, 
 Pa asked Mr. Murray if he had inventoried lately." 
 
 1 MS., originally, " But I." 
 
 2 Printed versions " La! " 
 
136 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 "Did he?" 
 
 " Yes, he did. Of course you know what that 
 means? " 
 
 " It means to fill, as they call it, does it not? " 
 
 " So I thought at first, but it means no such 
 thing. It means to count up, and set down how 
 much one is worth. Mr. Murray said he did that 
 every month, and, of course, he knew very well 
 what he was worth. I forget how much it was, 
 for I didn't care; you know George Murray is not 
 as old as I am, and so I listened to what Pa had 
 inventoried. Now, how much do you guess?" 
 
 " Really, my dear, I haven't the least idea," 
 answered Clara, slightly gaping — " a thousand 
 dollars, perhaps." 
 
 "A thousand dollars! What, for a gentleman 
 who keeps his coach — lives in Broadway — dresses 
 his daughter as I dress, and gives her hundred- 
 dollar handkerchiefs? Two hundred millions, my 
 dear; two hundred millions!" 
 
 Eudosiahad interpolated' the word "hundred" 
 quite innocently, for, as usually happens with 
 those with whom money is new, her imagination 
 ran ahead of her arithmetic. "Yes," she added, 
 "two hundred millions; besides^ sixty millions 
 of odd money." 
 
 "That sounds like a great deal," observed 
 Clara, quietly; for, besides caring very little for 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley, " interlopated " (!) 
 ^MS., "besides" replaces "and." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 137 
 
 these millions, she had not a profound respect for 
 her friend's accuracy on such subjects. 
 
 " It is a great deal. Ma says there are not ten 
 richer men than Pa in the state. Now, doesn't ' 
 this alter the matter about the pocket-handker- 
 chief? It would be mean in me not to have a 
 hundred-dollar handkerchief, when I could get 
 one." 
 
 " It may alter the matter as to the extrava- 
 gance; but it does not alter it as to the fitness. 
 Of what use is a pocket-handkerchief like this? 
 A pocket-handkerchief is made for use, my dear, 
 not for show." 
 
 " You would not have a young lady use her 
 pocket-handkerchief like a snuffy old nurse, 
 Clara?" 
 
 " I would have her use it like a young lady, 
 and in no other way. But it always strikes me 
 as a proof of ignorance and a want of refinement, 
 when the uses of things are confounded. A 
 pocket-handkerchief, at the best, is but a menial 
 appliance, and it is bad taste to make it an object 
 of attraction. Fi?te, it may be, for that conveys 
 an idea of delicacy in its owner; but, ornamented 
 beyond reason, never. Look what a tawdry and 
 vulgar thing an embroidered slipper is on a 
 woman's foot." 
 
 " Yes, I grant you that, but everybody cannot 
 have hundred-dollar handkerchiefs, though they 
 
 1 Printed versions, " does not." 
 
138 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 may have embroidered slippers. I shall wear my 
 purchase at Miss Trotter's ball to-night." 
 
 To this Clara made no objection, though she 
 still looked disapprobation of her purchase. 
 Now, the lovely Eudosia had not a bad heart; 
 she had only received a bad education." ' Her 
 parents had given her a smattering of the usual 
 accomplishments, but here her superior instruc- 
 tion ended. Unable to discriminate themselves, 
 for the want of this very education, they had 
 been obliged to trust their daughter to the care 
 of mercenaries, who fancied their duties dis- 
 charged when they had taught their pupil to 
 repeat like a parrot. All she acquired had been 
 for effect, and not for the purpose of every-day 
 use ; in which her instruction and her pocket- 
 handkerchief might be said to be of a piece. 
 
 ' MS., originally, " at all " followed " education." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 
 
 139 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 I will here digress ' a moment, to make a single 
 remark on a subject of which popular feeling, in ^ 
 America, under the influence of popular habits, 
 is apt to take an ex parte view. Accomplish- 
 ments are derided as useless in comparison with 
 what is ' considered household virtues.* The ac- 
 complishment of a cook is to make good dishes ; 
 of a seamstress to sew well; and of a lady to pos- 
 sess refined tastes, a cultivated mind, and agree- 
 able and intellectual habits. The real " virtues of 
 all are the same, though ^ subject to laws peculiar 
 to their station; but it is a very different thing when 
 we come to the mere' accomplishments. To 
 deride all the refined attainments of human skill 
 denotes ignorance of the means of human hap- 
 piness, nor is it any evidence of acquaintance 
 
 ' The MS. and Graham's edition being undivided into 
 chapters, in them this part begins, "And here I will 
 digress." 
 
 ^MS., this portion originally read, " in America, is apt to 
 take an ex parte view of, under the influence of popular 
 habits." 
 
 ^The MS. had originally "are," and Bentley restores it. 
 
 ^MS., originally, "household virtues" was "the house- 
 hold skill." 
 
 "MS., "real" is an after-insertion, as are also 
 •"though," and '"mere." 
 
140 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 with the intricate machinery of social greatness 
 and a lofty civilization. These gradations in attain- 
 ments are inseparable from civilized ' society, and, 
 if the skill of the ingenious and laborious is in- 
 dispensable to a solid foundation, without the 
 tastes and habits of the refined and cultivated, it 
 never can be graceful or pleasing. 
 
 Eudosia had some indistinct glimmerings of 
 this fact,^ though it was not often that she came 
 to^ sound and discriminating decisions, even in 
 matters less complicated. In the present instance 
 she saw this truth * only by halves, and that, too,' 
 in its most commonplace aspect, as will appear 
 by the remark she made on the occasion. 
 
 " Then, Clara, as to the price I have paid for 
 this handkerchief," she said; " you ought to re- 
 member what the laws of political economy lay 
 down on such subjects. I suppose your Pa makes 
 you study political economy, my dear?" 
 
 " Indeed he does not. I hardly know what it 
 means." 
 
 "Well, that is singular; for, Pa says, in this 
 age of the world, it is the only way to be rich. 
 Now it is by means of a trade in lots, and polit- 
 ical economy, generally, that he has succeeded 
 so wonderfully; for, to own the truth to you, 
 Clara, Pa hasn't always been rich." 
 
 MS. alterations: '"civilized" is an after-insertion; 
 ^originally "truth"; '"came to" replaces "made"; 
 'originally "fact"; 'originally "only." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 141 
 
 " No! " answered Clara, with a half-suppressed 
 smile, she knowing the fact already perfectly 
 well. 
 
 " Oh, no — far from it — but, we don't speak of 
 this publicly, it being a sort of disgrace in New 
 York, you know, not to be thought worth at 
 least half a million. I dare say your Pa is worth 
 as much as that? " 
 
 " I have not the least idea he is worth a fourth 
 of it, though I do not pretend to know. To me 
 half a million of dollars seems a great deal of 
 money, and I know my father considers himself 
 poor — poor, at least, for one of his station. But 
 what were you about to say of political econ- 
 omy? I am curious to hear how t/iat can have 
 anything to do with your handkerchief." 
 
 "Why, my dear, in this manner. You know a 
 distribution of labor is the source of all civiliza- 
 tion — that trade is an exchange of equivalents — 
 that custom-houses fetter these equivalents — that 
 nothing which is fettered is free — " 
 
 " My dear Eudosia, what is your tongue run- 
 ning on? " 
 
 " You will not deny, Clara, that anything which 
 is fettered is not free?; and that freedom is the 
 greatest blessing of this happy country; and that 
 trade ought to be as free as anything else? " 
 
 All this was gibberish to Clara Caverly, who 
 understood the ' phrases, notwithstanding, quite 
 
 'MS., originally, "all the." 
 
142 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 as well as the friend who was using them. Polit- 
 ical economy is especially a science of terms; and 
 free trade, as a branch of it is called, is just the 
 portion of it ' which is indebted to them the most. 
 But Clara had not patience to hear any more of 
 the unintelligible jargon, which has got posses- 
 sion of the world to-day, much as Mr. Pitt's cele- 
 brated sinking-fund scheme for paying off the 
 national debt of Great Britain did, half a century 
 since, and under very much the same influ- 
 ences; and she desired her friend to come at once 
 to the point, as connected with the pocket-hand- 
 kerchief. 
 
 "Well, then," resumed Eudosia, "it is con- 
 nected in this way. The^ luxuries of the rich 
 give employment to the poor, and cause money 
 to circulate. Now, this handkerchief of mine, no 
 doubt, has given employment to some poor 
 French girl for four or five ' months, and, of 
 course, food and raiment. She has earned, no 
 doubt, fifty of the hundred dollars I have paid. 
 Then the custom-house — ah, Clara, if it were not 
 for that vile custom-house, I might have had the 
 handkerchief at least five-and-twenty dollars 
 lower — ! " 
 
 " In which case you would have prized it five- 
 and-twenty times less," answered Clara, smiling 
 archly. 
 
 MS. alterations: ' " of it " is an after-insertion, as is also 
 ^ " The " ; ^ " four or five " was originally " two or three." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 143 
 
 " That is true; yes, free trade, after all, Ao^snot 
 apply to pocket-handkerchiefs." 
 
 "And yet," interrupted Clara, laughing, "if 
 one can believe what one reads, it applies to hack- 
 ney-coaches, ferry-boats, doctors, lawyers, and 
 even the clergy! My father says it is — " 
 
 "What? I am curious to know, Clara, what so 
 plain-speaking a man as Mr. Caverly calls it." 
 
 "He' is plain-speaking enough to call it a — 
 humbug," said the daughter, endeavoring to mouth 
 the word in a theatrical manner. " But, as 
 Othello says, 'the handkerchief.' " 
 
 " Oh! Fifty dollars go to the poor girl who 
 does the work, twenty-five more to the odious 
 custom-house, some fifteen to rent, fuel, lights, 
 and ten, perhaps, to Mr. Bobbinet, as profits. 
 Now, all this is very good, Clara, ^ and very use- 
 ful to society, as you must own." 
 
 Alas, poor Adrienne! Thou did'st not receive 
 for me as many francs as this fair calculator "^ gave 
 thee dollars; and richer would'st thou have been, 
 and, oh, how much happier, had'st thou kept the 
 money paid for me, sold the lace even at a loss, 
 and spared thyself so many, many hours of pain- 
 ful and anxious toil! But it is thus * with human 
 calculations. The propositions seem plausible, 
 
 IMS., originally, "Well, he." 
 
 ^The printed versions omit " Clara." 
 
 ^ All but the MS. make this " calculation." 
 
 *MS., originally, "ever thus." 
 
144 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 and the reasoning fair, while ^ stern truth lies be- 
 hind all, to level the pride of understanding, and 
 prove the fallacy of the wisdom of man. The 
 reader may wish to see how closely'' Eudosia's 
 account of profit and loss came to the fact. I ' 
 shall, consequently, make up the statement from 
 the private * books of the firm that had the honor 
 of once owning me, viz.: — 
 
 Super-extraordinary Pocket-handkerchief, &c., in 
 ac' with Bobbinet & Co.'' 
 
 Dr. 
 
 To money paid, first cost, francs lOO, at 5.25 $ig.04x%' 
 
 To interest on same for ninety days, at 7 per cent- 00.33 
 
 To portion of passage money 00.04 
 
 To porterage oo.ooj^^ 
 
 To washing and making up 00.25 
 
 $19.66^ 
 Cr. 
 
 By cash paid by Miss Thimble--- ---% 1.00 
 
 By cash paid for article 100.00 
 
 By washerwoman's deduction .-_=^ 00.05 
 
 101.05 
 19.66^ 
 
 By profit '$8i.39X 
 
 1 MS., originally, " but." 
 
 2 MS., originally, "accurate." 
 
 ^ The printed versions read " fact and I." 
 
 * MS., " private " is an after-insertion. 
 
 'It will be noted that, on page 112, the firm's title is 
 "Bobbinet & Gull." 
 
 'The printed versions omit "^^"\ and give " %" 
 instead of " -f-^" 3.ViA" -l^"\ we have followed the MS. 
 strictly here. 
 
 'The printed versions give "$I9.66X" and "$81.39^" — 
 the correct profit should be "$81.38^." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 145 
 
 As Clara Caverly had yet ' to see Mrs. Thought- 
 ful, and pay Eudosia's subscription, the former 
 now took her leave. I was thus left alone with 
 my new employer,^ for the first time, and had an 
 opportunity of learning something of her true 
 character, without the interposition of third per- 
 sons; for, let a friend have what hold he or she 
 may, on your heart, it has a few secrets that are 
 strictly its own. If admiration of myself could 
 win my favor, I had every reason to be satisfied 
 with the hands into which fortune had now 
 thrown me. There were many things to admire 
 in Eudosia — a defective education being the 
 great evil with which she had to contend. Owing 
 to this education, if it really deserved such a 
 name, she had superficial accomplishments, super- 
 ficially acquired — principles that scarce extended 
 beyond the retinue and morals of her sex — tastes 
 that had been imbibed from questionable ' models 
 — and hopes that proceeded from a false * esti- 
 mate of the very false position into' which she 
 had been accidentally and suddenly thrown. Still 
 Eudosia had a heart. She could scarcely be a 
 woman, and escape the influence of this portion 
 of the female frame. By means of the mes- 
 meritic power of a pocket-handkerchief, I soon 
 
 ' MS., " yet " is an after-insertion. 
 ^MS., originally, "bossee." 
 
 MS. alterations: ^Originally "very questionable " ; ^ori- 
 ginally " very false " ; 'originally "in." 
 
146 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 discovered that there was a certain Morgan 
 Merely in New York, to whom she longed to 
 exhibit my perfection, as second to the wish to 
 exhibit her own. 
 
 I scarcely know whether to felicitate myself, 
 or not, on the circumstance that I was brought 
 out the very first evening I passed in the posses- 
 sion of Eudosia Halfacre. The beautiful girl 
 was dressed and ready' for Mrs. Trotter's ball 
 by eight; and her admiring mother thought it 
 impossible for the heart oi Morgan Morely, a 
 reputed "six-figure" fortune, to hold out any 
 longer. By some accident or other, Mr. Half- 
 acre did not appear — he had not dined at home; 
 and the two females had all the joys of antici- 
 pation to themselves. 
 
 " I wonder what has become of your father," 
 said Mrs. Halfacre, after inquiring for her hus- 
 band for the tenth time. " It is so like him to 
 forget an engagement to a ball ! I believe he 
 thinks of nothing but his lots. It is really a 
 great trial, Dosy,^ to be so rich. I sometimes 
 wish we weren't worth more than a million, for, 
 after all, I suspect true happiness is to be found 
 in these little fortunes. Heigho ! It's ten o'clock, 
 and we must go, if we mean to be there at all; 
 for Mrs. Caverly once said, in my presence, that she 
 thought it as vulgar to be too late, as too early." 
 
 MS. alterations: 'Originally "all ready." 
 ^ Printed versions, "Dosie." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 
 
 147 
 
 The carriage was ordered, and we all three got 
 in, leaving a message for Mr. Halfacre to follow 
 us. As the ' rumor that a " three-figure " pocket- 
 handkerchief was to be at the ball, had preceded 
 my appearance, a^ general buzz announced my 
 arrival in the salle-d-manger-salons. I have no 
 intention of describing fashionable society in the 
 Great Emporium of the Western world. Every- 
 body understands that it is on the best possible 
 footing — grace, ease, high breeding, and common 
 sense being so blended together, that it is exceed- 
 ingly difficult to analyze them, or, indeed, to tell 
 which is which. It is this moral fusion that 
 renders the whole perfect, as the harmony of fine 
 coloring throws a glow of glory on the pictures 
 of Claude, or, for that matter, on those of Cole, 
 too. Still, as envious and evil-disposed persons 
 have dared to call in question the elegance, and, 
 more especially, the retinue of a Manhattanese 
 rout, I feel myself impelled, if not by that high 
 sentiment, patriotism, at least by a feeling of 
 gratitude for the great consideration that is 
 attached to pocket-handkerchiefs, just to declare 
 that it is all scandal. If I have any fault to find 
 with New York society, it is on account of its 
 formal and almost priggish quiet — the female 
 voice being usually quite lost in it — thus leaving 
 a void in the ear, not to say the heart, that it is 
 
 1 Ms., "As the " replaces " the." 
 
 2 MS., originally, " and a." 
 
148 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 sometimes' painful to endure. Could a few 
 young ladies, too, be persuaded to become a 
 little more prominent, and quit their mother's 
 apron-strings, it would add vastly to the group- 
 ing, and relieve the stiffness of the " shin-pieces " 
 of formal rows of dark-looking men, and of the 
 flounces of pretty^ women. These two slight 
 faults repaired. New York society might rival 
 that of Paris; especially in the Chausse d'Autin. 
 More than this I do not wish to say, and less 
 than this I cannot in honor write, for I have 
 made some of the warmest and truest-hearted 
 friends in New York' that it ever fell to the lot 
 of a pocket-handkerchief to enjoy. 
 
 It has been said that my arrival produced a 
 general buzz. In less than a minute, Eudosia 
 had made her curtsy, and was surrounded, in a 
 corner, by a bevy of young friends, all silent to- 
 gether, and all dying to see me. To deny the 
 deep gratification I felt at the encomiums I re- 
 ceived, would be hypocrisy. They went from my 
 borders to my center — from the lace to the hem 
 — and from the hem to the minutest fibre of my 
 exquisite texture. In a word, I was the first hun- 
 dred-dollar pocket-handkerchief that had then 
 appeared in their circles; and had I been a Polish 
 
 'The printed versions omit "sometimes." 
 
 ^MS., originally, " pretty proud." 
 
 'MS., Mr. Cooper started to write " America." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 149 
 
 count, with two sets of moustachios/ I could not 
 have been more flattered and " entertained." My 
 fame soon spread through the rooms, as two 
 little apartments, with a door between them that 
 made each an alcove of the other, were called; 
 and even the men, the young ones in particular, 
 began to take an interest in me. This latter in- 
 terest, it is true did not descend to the minutiae 
 of trimmings and work, or even of fineness, but 
 the " three-figure " had a surprising effect. An 
 elderly lady sent " to borrow me for a moment. 
 It was a curious thing to borrow a pocket-hand- 
 kerchief, some will think — but I was lent to 
 twenty people that night — and while in her 
 hands, I overheard the following little^ aside, be- 
 tween two young fashionables, who were quite 
 unconscious of the acuteness of the senses of our 
 family. 
 
 "This must be a rich old chap, this Halfacre, 
 to be able to give his daughter a hundred-dollar 
 pocket-handkerchief, Tom; one might do well to 
 get introduced." 
 
 " If you '11 take my advice, Ned, you '11 keep* 
 where you are," was the answer. " You've been 
 to the surrogate's office, and have seen the will 
 
 'Printed versions, "moustaches." 
 
 ^MS., originally, "had sent." 
 
 'MS. and Graham, "little"; Bro. J., "tittle"; Bentley, 
 "tattle"; it would then require two authorities together to 
 produce the "tittle-tattle." 
 
 *MS., " keep " replaces " do well to keep." 
 
150 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 of old Simonds, and know that he has left his 
 daughter seventy-eight thousand dollars; and, 
 after all, this pocket-handkerchief may be only a 
 sign. I always distrust people who throw out 
 such lures." 
 
 " Oh, rely on it, there is no sham here; Charley 
 Pray told me of this girl last week, when no one 
 had ever heard of her pocket-handkerchief." 
 
 "Why don't Charley, then, take her himself? 
 I 'm sure, if I had his imperial, I could pick and 
 choose among all the second-class heiresses in 
 town." 
 
 "Ay, there's the rub, Tom; one is obliged, in 
 our business, to put up with the second class. 
 Why can 't we aim higher, at once, and get such 
 girls as the Burton's, for instance?" 
 
 " The Burtons have, or have had, a mother." 
 
 "And haven't all girls mothers? Who ever 
 heard of a man or a ' woman without a 
 mother?" 
 
 "True, physically; but I mean morally. Now 
 this very Eudosia Halfacre has no more ^ mother, 
 in the last sense, than you have a wet-nurse. 
 She has an old woman to help her make a fool 
 of herself; but, in the way of mother, she would 
 be better off with a pair of good gum-shoes.s 
 A creature that is just to tell a girl not to wet 
 her feet, and when to cloak and uncloak, and to 
 
 ' Bently omits " a " here, and inserts it at ^. 
 ^Bentley, " India-rubber shoes." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 151 
 
 help tear the cheque-book ' out of money, is no 
 more of a mother than old Simonds was of a 
 Solomon, when he made that will, which every 
 one of us knows by heart quite as well as he 
 knows the constitution." 
 
 Here a buzz in the room drew the two young 
 men a little aside, and, for a minute I heard noth- 
 ing but indistinct phrases, in which " removal of 
 deposits," " panic," ^ "General Jackson," and 
 "revolution," were the only words I could fairly 
 understand. Presently, however, the young men 
 dropped back into their former position, and the 
 dialogue proceeded. 
 
 "There!" exclaimed Ned, in a voice louder 
 than was prudent, " that \s what I call an escape! 
 That cursed handkerchief was very near taking 
 me in. I call it swindling to make such false 
 pretensions." 
 
 " It might be very awkward with one who was 
 not properly on his guard; but with the right 
 sort there is very little danger." 
 
 Here the two eUgaiits led out a couple of ' 
 heiresses to dance; and I heard no more of them, 
 or of their escapes. Lest the reader, however, 
 should be misled, I wish to add, that these two 
 worthies are not to be taken as specimens of 
 New York morality at all — no place on earth 
 
 ' Printed versions, " check-book." 
 
 2 MS., originally, "and" came in here. 
 
 ^MS., "a couple of" replaces "two." 
 
152 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 being more free from fortune-hunters, or of a 
 higher tone of social morals in this delicate par- 
 ticular. As I am writing for American readers, 
 I wish to say, that all they are told of the vices 
 of old countries, on the other side of the Atlantic, 
 is strictly true; while all that is said, directly, or 
 by implication, of the vices and faults of this 
 happy young country, is just ' so much calumny. 
 The many excellent friends I have made, since 
 my arrival in this hemisphere, has bound my 
 heart to them to all eternity; and I will now pro- 
 ceed with my philosophical and profound dis- 
 quisitions on what I have seen, with a perfect 
 confidence that I shall receive credit, and an in- 
 dependence of opinion that is much too dear to 
 me to consent to place it in question. But to 
 return to facts. 
 
 I was restored^ to Eudosia, with a cold, re- 
 served look, by a lady into whose hands I had 
 passed, that struck me as singular, as shown to 
 the owner of such an ' article.' It was not long, 
 however, before I discovered, to use a homely 
 phrase, that 'something had happened'; and I 
 was not altogether without curiosity to know what 
 that something was. It was apparent enough 
 that Eudosia was the subject of general observa- 
 tion, and ' of general conversation, though, so 
 
 'MS., "just" is an after-insertion. 
 ^ MS., originally, " returned." 
 
 'Instead of "and" Bro. J. and Bentley employ " as well 
 as the subject." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 153 
 
 long as she held me in her hand, it exceeded all 
 my acuteness of hearing to learn what was said. 
 The poor girl fancied her pocket-handkerchief 
 was the common theme; and in this she was not 
 far from ' right, though ^ it was in a way she little 
 suspected. At length Clara Caverly drew near, 
 and borrowed me of her friend under a pretext of 
 showing me to her mother, who was in the room, 
 though, in fact, it was merely to get me out of 
 sight; for Clara was much too well bred to ren- 
 der any part of another's dress the subject of her 
 discussions in general society. As if impatient 
 to get me out of sight, I was thrown on a sofa,^ 
 among a little pile of consoeurs (if there is such a 
 word), * for a gathering had been made, while our 
 bossesses were dancing, in order to compare our 
 beauty. There we lay quite ^ an hour, a congress 
 of pocket-handkerchiefs, making our comments 
 on the company, and gossiping in our own 
 fashion. It was only the next day that I dis- 
 covered the reason we were thus neglected ; for, 
 to own the truth, something had occurred which 
 suddenly brought " three-figure " and even " two- 
 figure " people of our class into temporary dis- 
 repute. I shall explain that reason at the proper 
 
 moment. 
 
 The conversation among the handkerchiefs on 
 
 ' MS., " not far from " is an after-insertion. 
 2 MS., originally, " in fact, tiiough." 
 
 MS. alterations: ' " on a sofa " is a transposition; it ori- 
 ginally appeared at <; 'originally "for quite." 
 
154 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 the sofa ran principally on the subject ot our 
 comparative market value. I soon discovered 
 that there was a good deal of envy against me on 
 account of my "three figures," although I con- 
 fess I thought I cut a " poor figure," lying, as I 
 did, neglected in a corner, on the very first even- 
 ing of my appearance in the fashionable world. 
 But some of the opinions uttered on this occasion 
 — always in the mesmeritic manner, be it remem- 
 bered — will be seen in the following dialogue: 
 
 " Well! " exclaimed $25, ' " this is the first ball 
 I have been at that I was not thought good 
 enough to have a place in the quadrille. You 
 see, all the canaille are in the hands of their 
 owners, while we, the dite of pocket-handker- 
 chiefs, are left here in a corner, like so many 
 cloaks." 
 
 "There must be a reason for this, certainly," 
 answered $45, ' " though jow have been flourished 
 about these two winters in a way that ought to 
 satisfy one oi your pretentions." 
 
 An animated reply was about to set us ail in 
 commotion, when $80, ' who, next to myself, had 
 the highest claims of any of ^ the party, changed 
 the current of feeling by remarking — 
 
 " It is no secret that we are out of favor for a 
 
 'In Bentley, "$25," "$45," and "$8o,'' are all 
 spelled in full, and the latter value is given "Eighty-six 
 Dollars." 
 
 ^ Printed versions, " in." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 155 
 
 night or two, in consequence of three figures hav- 
 ing been paid for one of us, this very day, by a 
 bossess, whose father stopped payment within 
 three hours after he signed the cheque that was 
 to pay the importer. I overheard the whole 
 story half an hour since; and thus, you see, 
 every one is afraid to be seen with an aristocratic 
 handkerchief just at this moment. But, bless 
 you! in a day or two all will be forgotten, and we 
 shall come more into favor than ever. All is 
 always forgotten in New York in a week." 
 
 Such was, indeed, the truth. One General 
 Jackson had " removed the deposits," as I after- 
 wards learned, though I never could understand 
 exactly what that meant; but it suddenly made 
 money scarce, more especially with those who 
 had none; and everybody that was "extended" 
 began to quake in their shoes. Mr. Halfacre 
 happened to be in this awkward predicament, 
 and he broke down in the effort to sustain him- 
 self. His energy had overreached itself, like the 
 tumbler who breaks his neck in throwing seven- 
 teen hundred somersets backwards. 
 
156 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Every one is more apt to hear an unpleasant 
 rumor than those whom it immediately affects. 
 Thus, Eudosia and her mother were the only per- 
 sons at Mrs. Trotter's ball who were ignorant of 
 what had happened ; one whispering the news to 
 another, though no one could presume to com- 
 municate the fact to the parties most interested. 
 In a commercial town like New York, the failure 
 of a reputed millionaire could not long remain a 
 secret, and everybody stared at the wife and 
 daughter, and me; first, as if they had never 
 seen the wives and daughters of bankrupts before; 
 and second, as if they had never seen them sur- 
 rounded by the evidences of their extravagance. 
 
 But the crisis was at hand, and the truth could 
 not long be concealed. Eudosia was permitted 
 to cloak and get into the carriage unaided by any 
 beau, a thing that had not happened' to her, 
 since speculation had brought her father into 
 notice. This circumstance, more than any other, 
 attracted her attention; and the carriage no 
 sooner started than the poor girl gave vent to her 
 feelings. 
 
 ' MS., originally, "happened before." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 157 
 
 " What can be the matter, Ma? " Eudosia said, 
 " that every person in Mrs. Trotter's rooms 
 should stare so at me, this evening? I am sure 
 my dress is as well made and proper as that of 
 any other young lady in the rooms, and as for 
 the handkerchief,' I could see envy in fifty eyes, 
 when their owners heard the price." 
 
 " That is all, dear — they did envy you, and no 
 wonder they stared — nothing makes people stare 
 like envy.^ I thought this handkerchief would 
 make a commotion. Oh! I used to stare my- 
 self v/hen envious." 
 
 " Still it was odd that Morgan Morely did not 
 ask me to dance — he knows how fond I am of 
 dancing, and for the credit of so beautiful a hand- 
 kerchief, he ought to have been more than usually 
 attentive to-night." 
 
 Mrs. Halfacre gaped, and declared that she 
 was both tired and sleepy, which put an end to 
 conversation until the carriage reached her own 
 
 door. 
 
 Both Mrs. Halfacre and Eudosia were sur- 
 prised to find the husband and father still up. 
 He was pacing the drawing room, by the light of 
 a single tallow candle, obviously in great mental 
 distress. 
 
 " Bless me! " exclaimed the wife — ''you up at 
 
 1 The printed versions give it " handkerchiefs " — making 
 the sentence nonsensical. 
 
 2 MS., "nothing makes people stare like envy" is an 
 after-insertion. 
 
158 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 this hour? — what can have happened? What ^125 
 come to our door? " 
 
 " Nothing but beggary," answered the man, 
 smiling with a bitterness which showed he felt an 
 inhuman joy, at that fierce moment, in making 
 others as miserable as himself. " Yes, Mrs. 
 Henry Halfacre, — yes, Miss Eudosia Halfacre, 
 you are both beggars — I hope that, at least, will 
 satisfy you." 
 
 "You mean, Henry, that you have failed?" 
 For that was a word too familiar in New York 
 not to be understood by even the ladies. ' " Tell 
 me the worst at once — is it true, ^^z^^ you failed?" 
 
 " It is true — I have failed. My notes have 
 been this day protested for ninety-five thousand 
 dollars, and I have not ninety-five dollars in 
 bank. To-morrow, twenty-three thousand more 
 will fall due, and this month will bring round 
 quite a hundred and thirty thousand more. That 
 accursed removal of the deposits, and that tiger, 
 Jackson, have done it all." 
 
 To own the truth, both the ladies were a little 
 confounded. They wept, and, for some few min- 
 utes, there was a dead silence; but curiosity soon 
 caused them both to ask questions. 
 
 "This is very dreadful, and with our large 
 family!" commenced the mother — "and so the 
 general has it all to answer for — why did you let 
 him give so many notes for you? " 
 
 'MS., "even the ladies" replaces "everybody." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 159 
 
 "No — no — it is not that — I gave the notes 
 myself; but he removed the deposits, I tell you." 
 
 " It's just like him, the old wretch! To think 
 of his removing your deposits, just as you wanted 
 them so much yourself ! But why did the clerks 
 at the bank let him have them — they ought to 
 have known that you had all this money to pay, 
 and people cannot well pay debts without 
 money." 
 
 "You are telling that, my dear, to one who 
 knows it by experience. That is the very reason 
 why I have failed. I have a great many debts, 
 and I have no money." 
 
 " But you have hundreds of lots — give them 
 lots, Henry, and that will settle all your difficulties. 
 You must remember how all our friends have en- 
 vied us our lots." 
 
 "Ay, no fear, but they'll get the lots, my dear 
 — unless, indeed," added the speculator, " I take 
 good care to prevent it. Thank God! I'm not 
 a declared bankrupt. I can yet make my own 
 assignee." 
 
 "Well, then, I wouldn't say a word about it — 
 declare nothing, and let 'em find out that you 
 have failed, in the best manner they can. Why 
 tell people your distresses, so that they may ' pity 
 you? I hate pity, above all things — and, espe- 
 cially, the pity of my own friends." 
 
 " Oh, that will be dreadful!" put in Eudosia. 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley omit " may." 
 
i6o AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, Pa, don't let anybody pity 
 
 us." 
 
 " Very little fear of that, I fancy," muttered 
 
 the father; "people who shoot up like rockets, in 
 
 two or three years, seldom lay the foundations of 
 
 much pity in readiness for' their fall." 
 
 "Well, I declare, Dosy,^ this is too bad in the 
 old general, after all. I'm sure it trmst be un- 
 constitutional for a president to remove your 
 father's deposits. If I were in your place, Mr. 
 Halfacre, I wouldn't fail just to spite them. You 
 know you always said that a man of energy can 
 do anything in this country; and I have heard 
 Mr. Munny say that he didn't know a man of 
 greater energy than yourself." 
 
 The grin with which the ruined speculator 
 turned on his wife was nearly sardonic. 
 
 "Your men of energy are the very fellows to 
 fail," he said; " however, they shall find if I have 
 had extraordinary energy in running into debt, 
 that I have extraordinary energy, too,^ in getting 
 out of it. Mrs. Halfacre, we must quit this 
 house this very week, and all this fine furniture 
 must be brought to the hammer. I mean to pre- 
 serve my character, at least." 
 
 This was said loftily, and with the most ap- 
 proved accents. 
 
 ^MS., "in readiness for" replaces "against." 
 
 ^ The printed versions, "Dosie. " 
 
 'MS., " extraordinary energy, too" replaces "some." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. i6i 
 
 " Surely it isn't necessary to move to do that, 
 my dear! Other people fail, and keep their 
 houses, and furniture, and carriages, and such 
 other things. Let us not make ourselves the sub- 
 jects of unpleasant remarks." 
 
 " I intend that as little as you do yourself. 
 We must quit this house and bring the furniture 
 under the hammer, or part with all ' those lots 
 you so much esteem and prize. 
 
 "Oh! if the house and furniture will pay the 
 notes I'm content, especially if you can contrive 
 to keep the lots. Dosy ^ will part with her hand- 
 kerchief, too, I dare say, if that will do any 
 good." 
 
 "By George! that would be a capital idea — 
 yes, the handkerchief must be sent back to-mor- 
 row morning ; that will make a famous talk. I 
 only bought it because Munny was present, and 
 I wanted to get fifty thousand dollars out of him 
 to meet this crisis. The thing didn't succeed; 
 but, no matter, the handkerchief will tell in 
 settling up. That handkerchief, Dosy,^ may be 
 made to cover a hundred lots." 
 
 In what manner I was to open so much like the 
 tent of the Arabian Nights, was a profound mys- 
 tery to me then, as well as it was to the ladies; 
 but the handsome Eudosia placed me in her 
 father's hand with a frank liberality that proved 
 
 ^MS., " all " is an after-insertion. 
 ^Printed versions, "Dosie. " 
 
i62 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 she was not altogether without good qualities. 
 As I afterwards discovered, indeed, these two 
 females had most of the excellencies of a devoted 
 wife and daughter, their frivolities being the 
 result of vicious educations,' or of no educa- 
 tions ' at all, rather than of depraved hearts. 
 When Mr. Halfacre went into liquidation, as it is 
 called, and compromised with his creditors, re- 
 serving to himself a pretty little capital of some 
 eighty or a hundred thousand dollars, by means 
 of judicious payments to confidential creditors, 
 his wife and daughter saw all they most prized 
 taken away; and the town was filled with the 
 magnitude of their sacrifices, and with the hand- 
 some manner in which both submitted to make 
 them. By this ingenious device, the insolvent 
 not only preserved his character, — by no means 
 an unusual circumstance in New York, however, 
 — but he preserved about half of his bona fide 
 estate also; his creditors, as was customary, doing 
 the ^ paying. 
 
 It is unnecessary to dwell on the remainder of 
 this dialogue, my own adventures so soon carry- 
 ing me into an entirely different sphere. The 
 following morning, however, as soon as he had 
 breakfasted, Mr. Halfacre put me in his pocket, 
 and walked down street, with the port of an 
 afflicted and stricken, but thoroughly honest man. 
 
 ' Bentley, "education." 
 
 2 MS., "doing the" is an after-insertion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 163 
 
 When he reached the shop-door of Bobbinet & 
 Co., he walked boldly in and laid me on the 
 counter with a flourish so meek, that even the 
 clerks, a very matter-of-fact caste in general, 
 afterwards commented on it. 
 
 " Circumstances of an unpleasant nature, on 
 which I presume it is unnecessary to dwell, com- 
 pel me to offer you this handkerchief back again, 
 gentlemen," he said, raising his hand' to his eyes 
 in a very affecting manner. "As a bargain is a 
 bargain, I feel great reluctance to disturb its 
 sacred obligations, but I can not suffer a child of 
 mine to retain such a luxury, while a single indi- 
 vidual can justly say I owe him a dollar." 
 
 "What fine sentiments!" said Silky, who was 
 lounging in a corner of the shop; — " wonderful 
 sentiments, and such as becomes a man of 
 honesty." 
 
 Those around the colonel approved of his 
 opinion, and Mr. Halfacre raised his head like 
 one who was not afraid to look his creditors in 
 the face. 
 
 " I approve of your motives, Mr. Halfacre," 
 returned Bobbinet; " but you know the character 
 of the times, and the dearness of rents. That 
 article has been seen in private hands, doubtless, 
 and can no longer be considered fresh — we shall 
 be forced to make a considerable abatement, if 
 we consent to comply." 
 
 'MS., originally, "handkerchief." 
 
164 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 "Name your own terms, sir; so they leave' 
 me a single dollar for my creditors, I shall be 
 happy." 
 
 "Wonderful sentiments!" repeated the colonel 
 — " we must send that man to the national coun- 
 cils! " 
 
 After a short negotiation, it was settled that 
 Mr. Halfacre was to receive ^50,^ and Bobbinet 
 & Co. were to replace me in their drawer. The 
 next morning an article " appeared in a daily paper 
 of pre-eminent honesty and truth, and * talents, in 
 the following words : — 
 
 " Worthy of Imitation. — A distinguished gentle- 
 man of this city, H H , Esquire, hav- 
 ing been compelled to suspend, in consequence of 
 the late robbery of the Bank of the United States 
 by the cold-blooded miscreant whose hoary head 
 disgraces the White-House, felt himself bound to 
 return an article of dress, purchased as recently 
 as yesterday, by his lovely daughter, one ° who, 
 in every respect was entitled to wear it, as she 
 would have adorned it, receiving back the price, 
 with a view to put it in the fund he is already 
 collecting to meet the demands of his creditors. 
 
 ' MS., " they leave " replaces " it leaves." 
 
 ^ Bentley, " fifty dollars. " 
 
 'MS., "The next morning an article" replaces "That 
 evening the following article " ; also, " an " was originally 
 " the." 
 
 ^MS., "truth, and" is an after-insertion. 
 
 'Printed versions, "and." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 165 
 
 It is due to the very respectable firm of Bobbinet 
 & Co. to add, that it refunded the money with 
 the ' greatest liberality, at the first demand. We 
 can recommend this house to our readers as one 
 of the most liberal in our city, (by the way the 
 editor who wrote this article didn't own a foot of 
 the town, or of anything else,) and as possessing 
 a very large and well-selected assortment of the 
 choicest goods." 
 
 The following words : — " We take this occasion 
 to thank Messrs. Bobbinet & Co. for a specimen 
 of most beautiful gloves sent us," had a line run 
 through in the manuscript; a little'' reflection 
 telling the learned editor that it might be indis- 
 creet to publish the fact at that precise moment. 
 The American^ will know how to appreciate the 
 importance of this opinion, in relation to the 
 house in question, when he is told that it was 
 written by one of those inspired moralists, and * 
 profound constitutional lawyers, and ingenious 
 political economists, who daily teach their fellow- 
 creatures how to give practical illustrations of 
 the mandates of the Bible, how to discriminate 
 in vexed questions arising from^ the national 
 compact, and how to manage their *■ private affairs 
 in such a way as to escape the quicksands that 
 have wrecked their own. 
 
 ' " the " not in MS. 
 
 MS. alterations: ^Originally "moment's"; "originally 
 " reader "; ^" and " is an after-insertion ; ' " arising from " 
 replaces "of" ; 'originally "their own." 
 
l66 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 As some of my readers may feel an interest in 
 the fate of poor Eudosia, I will take occasion to 
 say, before I proceed with the account of my own 
 fortunes, that it was not half as bad as might have 
 been supposed. Mr. Halfacre commenced his 
 compromises under favorable auspices. The repu- 
 tation of the affair of the pocket-handkerchief was 
 of great service, and creditors relented as they 
 thought of the hardship of depriving a pretty girl 
 of so valuable an appliance. Long before the 
 public had ' ceased to talk about the removal of 
 the deposits, Mr. Halfacre had arranged every- 
 thing to his own satisfaction. The lots were par- 
 ticularly useful, one of them paying off a debt'' 
 that had been contracted for half-a-dozen. Now 
 and then he met an obstinate fellow who insisted 
 on his money, and who talked of suits in chan- 
 cery. Such men were paid in full, litigation be- 
 ing the speculator's aversion. As for the S50* 
 received for me, it answered to go to market with, 
 until other funds were found. This diversion of 
 the sum from its destined object, however, was 
 apparent rather than real, since food was indis- 
 pensable to enable the excellent, but unfortunate, 
 man to work for the benefit of his creditors. In 
 short, everything was settled in the most satis- 
 factory manner, Mr. Halfacre paying a hundred 
 
 ' MS., " had " is an after-insertion. 
 
 ^MS., after "debt" came originally "in several in- 
 stances." 
 
 ^Printed versions, "fifty dollars." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 167 
 
 cents in the dollar, in lots, however, but, in such 
 a manner as balanced his books beautifully. 
 
 " Now, thank God! I owe no man a sixpence," 
 said Mr. to Mrs. Halfacre, the day all was con- 
 cluded, "and only one small mistake has been 
 made by me, in going through so many compli- 
 cated accounts, and for such large sums." 
 
 "1 had hoped all was settled," answered the good 
 woman in alarm. "It is that unreasonable man, John 
 Downright, who gives you this trouble, I dare say." 
 
 "He — oh! he is paid in full. I offered him, 
 at first, twenty-five cents in the dollar, but that he 
 wouldn't hear to.' Then I found a small error, 
 and offered forty. It wouldn't '' do, and I had to 
 pay the scamp a hundred. I can look that fel- 
 low in the face with a perfectly clear conscience." 
 
 " Who else can it be, then ? " 
 
 " Only your brother, Myers, my dear ; some- 
 how or other, we made a mistake in our figures, 
 which made out a demand in his favor of ;g 100,000.^ 
 I paid it in property, but when we came to look 
 over the figures it was discovered that a cypher 
 too much had been thrown in, and Myers paid 
 back the difference like a man, as he is." 
 
 " And to whom will that difference belong ?" 
 
 "To whom — oh! — why, of course, to the 
 right owner."* 
 
 Bentley alterations: ^ " of " ; ^ " not " ; ' " 100,000 dollars." 
 *This is the end of the second Graham installment; after 
 
 it, in MS., comes "(to be continued)"; in Graham, "\Con- 
 
 clusion in our next. 
 
l68 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 When I found myself once more ' in the pos- 
 session of Bobbinet & Co., I fancied that I might 
 anticipate a long residence in their drawers, my 
 freshness, as an article, having been somewhat 
 tarnished by the appearance at Mrs. Trotter's 
 ball. In this I was mistaken, the next^ day bring- 
 ing about a release, and a restoration to my 
 proper place in society. 
 
 The very^ morning after I was again in the 
 drawer,' a female voice was heard asking for 
 "worked French pocket-handkerchiefs." As I 
 clearly came within this category — alas, poor 
 Adrienne! — in half a minute I found myself, 
 along with fifty fellows, or fellowesses, lying on 
 the counter. The instant I heard the voice, I 
 knew that the speaker was not " mamma," but 
 " my child," and I now saw that she was fair. 
 Julia Monson was not as brilliantly handsome as 
 my late owner, but she had more feeling and re- 
 finement in the expression of her countenance. 
 Still there was an uneasy, worldly glancing of the 
 eye, that denoted how much she lived out of her- 
 
 MS. alterations; '"once more" originally followed 
 "Bobbinet &Co."; ^originally "very next"; ^ "after I 
 was again in the drawer " is an after-insertion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 169 
 
 self, in the less favorable understanding of the 
 term; an expression of countenance that' I have 
 had occasion to remark in most of those who 
 think a very expensive handkerchief necessary to 
 their happiness.^ It is, in fact, the natural indi- 
 cation that the mind dwells more on show than 
 on substantial things, and a proof that the pos- 
 sessor of this quality is not content to rely al- 
 together on the higher moral feelings and attain- 
 ments for her claims to deference. In a word, it 
 is some such trait as that which distinguishes the 
 beautiful^ plumage of the peacock, from the mo- 
 tive that incites the bird to display his feathers. 
 In company with Miss Monson was another 
 young lady of about her own age, and of a very 
 similar appearance as to dress and station. Still, 
 a first glance discovered an essential difference 
 in character. This companion, who was ad- 
 dressed as Mary, and whose family name was 
 Warren, had none of the uneasiness of demeanor 
 that belonged to her friend, and obviously cared 
 less what others thought of everything she said, 
 or did. When the handkerchiefs were laid on 
 the counter, Julia Monson seized on one with 
 avidity, while Mary Warren' regarded us all 'with 
 
 MS. alterations: ' "an expression of countenance that" 
 replaces " which "; ^ originally " appearance " ; ^"beauti- 
 ful " is an after-insertion. 
 
 Note. — ^ " Mary Warren" is the heroine of Cooper's 
 " Redskins." 
 
 'MS., "us all" replaces "them." 
 
lyo AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 a look of cold' indifference, if not of downright'' 
 displeasure. 
 
 "What beauties!" exclaimed the first, the 
 clerk at that moment quitting them to hand some 
 gloves to another customer — " What delightful 
 needlework! Mary, do you purchase one to keep 
 me in countenance, and I will purchase another. 
 I know your mother gave you the money this 
 very morning." 
 
 " Not for that object,^ Julia. My dear mother 
 little thinks I shall do any such thing." 
 
 "And, why not? A rich pocket-handkerchief 
 is a stylish thing! " 
 
 " I question if style, as you call it, is just the 
 thing for a young woman, under any circum- 
 stances; but, to confess the truth, I think a pocket- 
 handkerchief that is to be looked at, and which 
 is not to be used, vulgar." 
 
 " Not in Sir Walter Scott's signification, my 
 dear," answered Julia, laughing, "for it is not so 
 very common. Everybody cannot have a worked 
 French pocket-handkerchief." 
 
 "Sir Walter Scott's definition of what is vulgar 
 is open to criticism, I fancy. The word comes 
 from the common mind, or common practices, 
 beyond a question; but it now means what is com- 
 mon * as opposed to what is cultivated and re- 
 
 MS. alterations: ' Originally " singular" ; ^ " downright " 
 is an after-insertion; '"Not for that object" replaces 
 " But not for that"; ^after "common" came, originally, 
 " in this sense." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 171 
 
 fined. It is an absurdity, too, to make a thing 
 respectable, because it is common. A fib is one 
 of the commonest things in the world, and vet it 
 is scarcely respectable." 
 
 " Oh! every one says you are a philosopher^.fj, 
 Mary, and I ought to have expected some such 
 answer. But a handkerchief I am determined to 
 have, and it shall be the very handsomest I can 
 find." 
 
 "And the dearest? Well, you will have a very 
 lady-like wardrobe with one pocket-handkerchief 
 in it! I wonder you do not purchase a single' 
 shoe." 
 
 " Because I have two feet," replied Julia, with 
 spirit, though she laughed good-naturedly — "but 
 here is the clerk, and he must not hear our quar- 
 rels. — Have the goodness, sir, to show me the 
 handsomest pocket-handkerchief in your shop." 
 
 I was drawn from beneath the pile and laid be- 
 fore the bright black eyes of Julia, with an air of 
 solemn dignity, by the young dealer in finery. 
 
 "That, ma'am," he said, "is the very finest and 
 most elegant article not only that we have, but 
 which is to be found in America. It was brought 
 out by ' our Mr. Silky,' the last voyage; he^ says 
 Paris cannot produce its equal." 
 
 " This is beautiful, sir, one must admit. What 
 is the price?" 
 
 MS. alterations: '"a single" replaces "one"; ^ origi- 
 nally "handkerchief"; 'originally "and he." 
 
173 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 " Why, ma'am, we ought in justice to ourselves ' 
 to have %\2o'' for that article, but to our regular 
 customers I believe Mr. Bobbinet has determined 
 to ask only $100."^ 
 
 This sounded exceedingly liberal — to ask only 
 ^100 * for that for which there was a sort of moral 
 obligation to ask gi2o!^ — and Julia having come 
 out with the intent" to throw away a hundred- 
 dollar note that her mother had given her that 
 morning, the bargain was concluded. I was 
 wrapped up carefully in paper, put into Miss Mon- 
 son's muff, and once more took my departure 
 from the empire of Col. Silky. I no longer 
 occupied a false position. 
 
 " Now I hope you are happy, Julia," quietly 
 observed Mary Warren, as the two girls took 
 their seats, side by side, in Mrs. Monson's 
 chariot. " The surprise to me is, that you forgot 
 to purchase this 7ie plus ultra of elegance while in 
 Paris last summer." 
 
 " My father said he could not afford it; we 
 spent a great deal of money, as you may suppose, 
 in running about, seeing sights and laying in 
 curiosities; and when I hinted the matter to my 
 mother, she said we must wait until another half- 
 
 ' MS., " in justice to ourselves " is an after-insertion. 
 
 2 Bentley, "120 dollars." 
 
 ^Bentley, "a hundred." 
 
 * Bentley, " a hundred dollars." 
 
 ' Bentley, "a hundred and twenty." 
 
 ^MS., originally, "fell intent." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 
 
 173 
 
 year's rents had come round. After all, Mary, 
 there is one person at home to whom I shall be 
 ashamed to show this purchase." 
 
 "At home! — is there, indeed? Had you 
 merely said 'in town,' I could have understood 
 you. Your father and mother approving' of 
 what you have done, I do not see who there is at 
 home to alarm you." 
 
 Julia blushed when her friend said " in town," 
 and her conscious feelings immediately conjured 
 up the image of a certain Betts Shoreham'' as the 
 person in her companion's mind's eye. I detected 
 it all easily enough, being actually within six 
 inches of her throbbing heart at that very mo- 
 ment, though concealed in the muff. 
 
 "It is not what you suppose, Mary, nor whom 
 you suppose," answered my mistress; " I mean 
 Mademoiselle Hennequin — I confess I do dread 
 the glance of her reproving eye." 
 
 "It'' is odd enough that you should dread re- 
 proval from the governess of your sisters, when 
 you do not dread it from your own mother! But 
 Mademoiselle Hennequin has nothing to do with 
 you. You were educated, and out, before she 
 entered your family, and it is singular'' that a 
 
 'MS., originally, "As your father and motiier ap- 
 prove." 
 
 ^ Note. — In Cooper's "Crater" tlie subordinate hero is 
 "Bob Betts." 
 
 MS. alterations: ^ Originally " That " ; ^ originally " sin- 
 gular enough." 
 
174 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 person not older than yourself, who was engaged 
 in Paris so recently, should have obtained so 
 much influence over the mind of one who never 
 was her pupil." 
 
 " I am not afraid of her in most things," re- 
 joined Julia, " but I confess I am in all that 
 relates to taste; particularly^ in what relates to 
 extravagance." 
 
 " I have greatly misunderstood the character 
 of Mademoiselle Hennequin if she has ventured 
 to interfere with you in either! A governess 
 ought not to push her control beyond her ^ proper 
 duties." 
 
 " Nor has Mademoiselle Hennequin," answered 
 Julia, honestly. " Still, I cannot but hear the les- 
 sons she gives my sisters, and — yes — to own 
 the truth, I dread the glance she cannot avoid 
 throwing on my purchase. It will say, ' Of what 
 use are all my excellent lessons in taste and 
 prudence, if an elder sister's example is to coun- 
 teract them? ' It is that^ I dread." 
 
 Mary was silent for fully a minute; then she 
 smiled archly, as girls will smile when certain 
 thoughts cross their playful imaginations, and 
 continued the discourse. 
 
 "And Betts Shoreham has nothing to do with 
 all this dread?"* 
 
 MS. alterations: 'Originally " and particularly " ; ''ori- 
 ginally " her own "; ^originally "that which"; * originally 
 after " dread? " came "she asked." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 175 
 
 " What is Betts Shoreham to me, or what am I 
 to Betts Shoreham? I am sure the circumstances 
 that we happened to come from Europe in the 
 same packet, and that he continues to visit us 
 now we are at home, do not entitle him to have a 
 veto, as they call it, on my wardrobe." 
 
 " Not yet, certainly, my dear. Still they may 
 entitle him to have this' veto, in petto." '^ 
 
 1 thought a shade passed over the features of 
 the pretty Julia Monson, as she answered her 
 friend, with a seriousness, to show that she was 
 now in earnest, and with a propriety that proved 
 she had great good sense at bottom, as well as 
 strong womanly feeling. 
 
 " If I have learned nothing else by visiting 
 Europe," she said, " I have learned to see how 
 inconsiderate we girls are in America, in talking 
 so much, openly, of this sort of thing. A woman's 
 delicacy is like that of a tender flower, and it 
 must suffer by having her name coupled with that 
 of any man, except him that she is to marry." 
 
 "Julia, dear, I will never speak of Mr. Shore- 
 ham again. I should not have done it now had 
 I not thought his attentions were acceptable to 
 you, as I am sure they are to your parents. Cer- 
 tainly, they are very marked — at least, so others 
 think as well as myself." 
 
 " I know it seems so to the world," answered 
 
 ' Bentley, " his." 
 
 2 MS., " in petto " replaces " in the end." 
 
176 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 Julia, in a subdued, thoughtful tone, " but it 
 scarcely seems so to me. Betts Shoreham is very 
 agreeable, every way a suitable connection for 
 any of us, and that is the reason people are so 
 ready to fancy him in earnest." 
 
 " In earnest ! If Mr. Shoreham pays attentions 
 that are pointed, and is not in earnest, he is a 
 very different person from what I took him to 
 be." 
 
 Julia's voice grew still more gentle, and it was 
 easy enough to see that her feelings were enlisted 
 in the subject. 
 
 " It is no more than justice to Betts Shoreham," 
 she continued, "to say that he has not\i&e.n pointed 
 in his attentions to me. We females are said to 
 be quick in discovering such matters, and I am 
 not more blind than the rest of our sex. He is 
 a young man of good family, and has some for- 
 tune, and that makes him welcome in most 
 houses in town, while he is agreeable, well-look- 
 ing, and thoroughly amiable. He met us abroad, 
 and it is natural for him to keep up an intimacy 
 that recalls pleasant recollections. You will 
 remember, Mary, that before he can be accused 
 of trifling, he must trifle. I think him far more 
 attentive to my mother, my father — nay, to my 
 two little sister-s — than he is to me. Even 
 Mademoiselle Hennequin is quite as much, if not 
 more, of a favorite than I am ! " 
 
 As Mary Warren saw that her friend was 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 177 
 
 serious, she changed the subject; soon^ after, we 
 were set down at Mr. Monson's door. Here the 
 friends parted, Mary Warren preferring to walk 
 home, while Julia and I entered the house 
 together. 
 
 "Well, mother," cried Julia, as she entered 
 Mrs. Monson's room, " I have found the most 
 beautiful thing you ever beheld, and have bought 
 it. Hereitis; what do you think of my choice?" 
 
 Mrs. Monson was a kind-hearted, easy, indul- 
 gent parent, who had brought her husband a good 
 fortune, and who had married rich, in the bargain. 
 Accustomed all her life to a free use of money, 
 and of her own money, too (for this is a country 
 in which very many persons cast the substance of 
 others right and left), and when her eldest daughter 
 expressed a wish to possess an elaborate specimen 
 of our race, she had consented, from a pure dis- 
 inclination to deny her child any gratification 
 that might be deemed innocent. Still, she knew 
 that prudence was a virtue, and that Julia had 
 thrown away money that might have been much 
 better employed. 
 
 " This is certainly a very beautiful handker- 
 chief," observed the mother, after examining me 
 carefully, and with somewhat of the manner of a 
 connoisseur, "surprisingly beautiful; and yet I 
 almost wish,'' my child, you had not purchased it. 
 
 'MS., originally, "and soon." 
 ^Bro. J. and Bentley, "wished." 
 
178 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 A hundred dollars sounds frightfully en prince for 
 us poor simple people, who live in nutshells of 
 houses, fiive-and-twenty feet front, and fifty-six 
 deep, to pay for a pocket-handkerchief! The 
 jewel-box of a young lady who has such hand- 
 kerchiefs ought to cost thousands, to be in 
 keeping." 
 
 " But, mother, I have only one, you will re- 
 member, and so my jewels may be limited to 
 hundreds." 
 
 " One pocket-handkerchief has a mean sound, 
 too. Even one hat is not very superfluous." 
 
 " That is so like Mary Warren, mother. If you 
 did not wish me to make the purchase, you had 
 only to say it; I' am sure your wish would have 
 been my law." 
 
 "I know it, love; and I am afraid it is your 
 dutiful behavior that has made me careless, in 
 this instance. Your happiness and interests are 
 ever uppermost in my mind, and sometimes they 
 seem to conflict. What young man will dare to 
 choose a wife from among young ladies who 
 expend so much money on their pocket-handker- 
 chiefs?" 
 
 This was said smilingly, but there was a touch 
 of tenderness and natural concern in the voice 
 and manner of the speaker that made an impres- 
 sion on the daughter. 
 
 " I am afraid now, mother, you are thinking of 
 
 'MS., originally, " and I." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 179 
 
 Betts Shoreham," said Julia, blushing, though she 
 struggled powerfully to appear unconcerned. " I 
 do not know why it is, but, both you and Mary 
 Warren appear to be always thinking of Mr. 
 Shoreham." 
 
 The mother smiled, and she was not quite 
 ingenuous when she said, in answer to the remark: 
 
 "Shoreham was not in my mouth; and you 
 ought not to suppose he was in my mind. Never- 
 theless, I do not believe he would admire you, or 
 any one else, the more for being the owner of 
 so expensive an article of dress. He is wealthy, 
 but very prudent in his opinions and habits." 
 
 " Betts Shoreham was born to an estate, and his 
 father before him," said Julia, firmly; "and such 
 men know how to distinguish between the cant 
 of economy, and those elegancies of life that 
 become people of refinement."^ 
 
 " No one can better understand the difference 
 between cant in economy, as well as cant in some 
 other things, and true taste as well as true morals, 
 than young Shoreham; but there are indulgences 
 that become persons of no class." 
 
 "After all, mother, we are making a trifle a 
 very serious matter. It is but a pocket-hand- 
 kerchief." 
 
 "Very true, my love; and it cost only one hun- 
 dred dollars, and so we'll say no more about it; 
 
 MS. alterations: ' " the more" is an after-insertion; 
 2 "refinement" replaces "a certain class." 
 
l8o AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 bien entendu, that you are not to purchase six 
 dozen at the same price." 
 
 This terminated the dialogue, Julia retiring to 
 her own room, carrying me with her. I was 
 thrown upon the bed, and soon after my mistress 
 opened a door and summoned her two younger 
 sisters, who were studying on the same floor, to 
 join her. I shall not repeat all the delightful ex- 
 clamations, and other signs of approbation, that 
 so naturally escaped the two pretty little crea- 
 tures, to whom I may be said to have now been 
 introduced, when my beauty came under exami- 
 nation. I do not thus speak of myself out of any 
 weakness, for pocket-handkerchiefs are wholly 
 without vanity; but simply because I am impelled ' 
 to utter nothing but truth. Julia had too much 
 consideration to let her young sisters into the 
 secret of my price — for this would have been 
 teaching a premature lesson in extravagance; but, 
 having permitted them to gratify their curiosity, 
 she exacted of them both promises not to speak 
 of me to their governess. 
 
 " But, why not, Julia? " asked the inquisitive 
 little Jane, " Mademoiselle Hennequin is so good, 
 and so kind, that she would be glad to hear of 
 your good fortune." 
 
 Julia had an indistinct view of her own motive, 
 but she could not avow it to any one, not even to 
 
 'MS., "compelled." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. i8l 
 
 herself. Jealousy would be too strong, perhaps 
 too indelicate a word, but she alone had detected 
 Betts Shoreham's admiration of the governess; 
 and it was painful to her to permit one who stood 
 in this relation to her own weakness in favor of 
 the young man, to be a witness of an act of ex- 
 travagance to which she had only half consented 
 in committing it, and of which she had already 
 more than half repented. From the first, there- 
 fore, she determined that Mademoiselle Henne- 
 quin should never see me. 
 
 'MS., originally, "for." 
 
i82 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Now ' comes an exhibition of my mesmeritic 
 powers, always " handkerchiefly speaking," that 
 may surprise those who have not attended to the 
 modern science of invisible fluids. It is by this 
 means, however, that I am enabled to perceive ^ 
 a great deal of that which passes under the roof ^ 
 where I may happen to be, without absolutely see- 
 ing it. Much escapes me, of course — for even a 
 pocket-handkerchief cannot hear or see every- 
 thing; but enough is learned to enable me to fur- 
 nish a very clear outline of that which occurs 
 near me; more especially if it happen to be 
 within walls of brick. In wooden edifices I find 
 my powers much diminished — the fluids, doubt- 
 less, escaping through the pores of the material.* 
 
 That evening, then, at the usual hour, and 
 while I lay snugly ensconced in a most fragrant 
 and convenient drawer, among various other be- 
 ings of my species, though not of my family, 
 alas! the inmates of the house assembled in the 
 
 ' Originally " And now," there being no chapter division 
 at this point in the MS. and Graham's. 
 ^MS. , originally, "see." 
 'MS., originally, "same roof." 
 *MS., " wood." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 183 
 
 front drawing-room to take a few cups of tea. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Monson, with their only son, John 
 Monson, their three daughters, the governess and 
 Betts Shoreham, were all present; the latter hav- 
 ing dropped in with a new novel for the ladies. 
 
 " I do really' wish one could see a little advance 
 in the way of real refinement and true elegance 
 among all the vast improvements we are mak- 
 ing in frippery and follies," cried Mr. Monson, 
 throwing down an evening paper in^ a pettish 
 manner, that sufficiently denoted discontent. "We 
 are always puffing our own progress in America, 
 without exactly knowing whether a good deal of 
 the road is not to be traveled over again by way 
 of undoing much that we have done. Here, 
 now, is a specimen of our march in folly, in an 
 advertisement of Bobbinet's, who has pocket- 
 handkerchief's at S75."' 
 
 " By the dozen, or by the gross, sir? " de- 
 manded Betts Shoreham, quickly. 
 
 " Oh, singly — seventy-five dollars each." 
 
 " Nay, that must be a mistake, sir! who, even 
 in this extravagant and reckless country, could 
 be found to pay such a price? One can fancy 
 such a thing in a princess, with hundreds of 
 thousands of income, but scarcely of any one else. 
 How could such a thing be used, for instance?" 
 
 1 Bentley, "seriously." 
 
 2 MS., originally, "with." 
 
 ^ Bentley, "seventy-five dollars." 
 
184 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 " Oh," cried John Monson, "to hide the blushes 
 of the simpleton who had thrown away her money 
 on it. I heard a story this very ' afternoon,'' of 
 some person of the name of Halfacre's having 
 failed yesterday, and whose daughter purchased 
 even a higher-priced handkerchief than that, the 
 very same day." 
 
 " His failure is not surprising, then," put in 
 Betts Shoreham. " For myself, I do think that 
 I—" 
 
 "Well, w^^/ do you think, Mr. Shoreham?" 
 asked Mrs. Monson, smiling, for she ' saw that Julia 
 was too much mortified to speak, and who assumed 
 more than half the blame of her own daughter's 
 extravagance. " You were about to favor us 
 with some very magnificent resolution." 
 
 " I was about to utter an impertinence, I con- 
 fess, ma'am, but recollected in time, that young 
 men's protestations of what they would do by way 
 of reforming the world, is not of half the import- 
 ance to others that they so often fancy; so* I 
 shall spare you the infliction. Seventy-five dol- 
 lars, Mademoiselle Hennequin, would be a high 
 price for such a thing, even in Paris, I fancy." 
 
 The answer was given in imperfect English, a 
 circumstance that rendered the sweet round tones 
 
 'MS., "very" is an after-insertion. 
 ^MS., originally, "however" followed. 
 MS. alterations: ^ " for she " replaces "who"; * origi- 
 nally " and so." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 185 
 
 of the speaker very agreeable to the ear, and 
 lent ' the charm of piquancy to what she said. I 
 could not distinguish countenances from the 
 drawer, but I fancied young Shoreham to be a 
 handsome youth, the governess to be pale and 
 slightly ugly, though very agreeable in manner, 
 and Julia excessively embarrassed, but determined 
 to defend her purchase, should it become neces- 
 sary. 
 
 " Seventy-five dollars sound like a high price, 
 monsieur," answered Mademoiselle Hennequin; 
 " but the ladies of Paris do not grudge their gold 
 for ornaments to decorate their persons." 
 
 "Ay," put in John Monson, "but they are con- 
 sistent. Now, I'll engage this Mrs. Hundred- 
 acres,^ or Halfacre, or whatever her name may 
 be, overlooked her own household work, kept no 
 housekeeper, higgled about flour and butter, and 
 lived half her time in her basement. Think of 
 such a woman's giving her daughter a hundred- 
 dollar pocket-handkerchief." 
 
 Now Mrs. Monson did keep a housekeeper; 
 she was not a mere upper-servant in her own 
 family, and Julia was gratified that, in this 
 instance, her fastidious brother could not reproach 
 her, at least. 
 
 "Well, Jack, that is a queer reason of yours;" 
 
 'MS., "lent" replaces "to lend." 
 
 2 In Cooper's " Chainbearer " appears one "Thousand- 
 
i86 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 cried the father, " for not indulging in a luxury; 
 because the good woman is careful in some things, 
 she is not to be a little extravagant in others. 
 What do you say to such logic, Mr. Shore- 
 ham?" 
 
 "To own the truth, sir, I am much of Monson's 
 way of thinking. It is as necessary to begin at 
 the bottom in constructing a scheme of domestic 
 refinement as in building a house. Fitness is 
 entitled to a place in everything that relates to 
 taste, at all events; and as a laced and embroi- 
 dered pocket-handkerchief is altogether for ap- 
 pearance, it becomes necessary that other things 
 should be in keeping. If the ladies will excuse 
 me, I will say' that I never yet saw a woman in 
 America, in a sufficiently high dress to justify 
 such an appendage as that which Monson has 
 just mentioned. The handkerchief ought not to 
 cost more than the rest of the toilette." 
 
 " It is true, Mr. Shoreham," put in Julia, with 
 vivacity, if not with spirit, " that our women do 
 not dress as women of rank sometimes^ dress in 
 Europe; but, on the whole, I do not know that 
 we are so much behind them in appearance." 
 
 "Very far from it, my dear Miss Monson — as 
 far as possible — I am the last man to decry my 
 beautiful country women, who are second to no 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley, "will excuse, I say." 
 'Bentley, "do." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 187 
 
 others in appearance* personally;'^ if they do not 
 dress as richly, it is because they do not need it. 
 Mademoiselle Hennequin has no reason to depre- 
 cate comparisons — and — but — " 
 
 " Certainly," answered the governess, when she 
 found the young man hesitated about proceeding; 
 "certainly, I am not so bigoted, or so blind, as to 
 wish to deny that the American ladies are very 
 handsome — handsomer, as a whole, than those 
 of my own country. It would be idle to deny it. 
 So are those of England and Italy." 
 
 "This is being very liberal, Mademoiselle Hen- 
 nequin, and more than you are required to admit," 
 observed Mrs. Monson, in the kindest possible 
 tone of voice, and, I make no manner of doubt, 
 with a most benevolent smile, though I could not 
 see her. " Some of the most brilliantly-beautiful 
 women I have ever seen, have been French — 
 perhaps the mt).?^ brilliantly-beautiful." 
 
 " That is true, also, madame, but such is not 
 the rule, I think. Both the English and Ameri- 
 cans seem to me handsomer, as a whole,' than 
 my own country women." 
 
 Now, nothing could be sweeter, or softer, or 
 gentler, than the voice that made this great * con- 
 cession — for great it certainly was, as coming 
 
 'MS., originally, "personal appearance," and omitting 
 "personally." 
 
 2 Printed versions, "certainly." 
 
 ^MS., "as a whole" is an after-insertion, as is also 
 *" great." 
 
l88 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 from a woman. It appeared to me that the 
 admission, too, was more than commonly gen- 
 erous, from the circumstance that the governess 
 was not particularly pretty in her own person. 
 It is true, I had not yet seen her, but my mes- 
 meritic impulses induced me to fancy as much. 
 
 "What say the young gentlemen to this?" 
 asked Mr. Monson, laughing. " This is a ques- 
 tion not to be settled altogether by ladies, old or 
 young." 
 
 " Betts Shoreham has substantially told you 
 what he thinks; and now I claim a right to give 
 my opinion," cried John Monson. " Like Betts, I 
 will not decry my country women, but I shall pro- 
 test against the doctrine of their having all the 
 beauty in the world. By Jove! I've' seen in 
 OTie opera-house at Rome, more beautiful women 
 than I ever saw together, before or since, in any 
 other place. Broadway never equals the corso 
 of a carnival." 
 
 "This^ is not sticking to the subject," observed 
 Mrs. Monson. " Pocket-handkerchiefs and house- 
 keepers are our themes, and not pretty women. 
 Mademoiselle Hennequin, you are French enough, 
 I am sure, to like more sugar in your tea." 
 
 This changed the subject, which became a des- 
 ultory discourse on the news of the day. I could 
 not understand half that was said, laboring under 
 
 ' Printed versions, " I have." 
 2 MS., originally, "Well, this." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 189 
 
 the disadvantage of being shut up in a close 
 drawer, on another floor; and that, too, with six 
 dozen of chattering French gloves lying within a 
 foot of me. Still, I saw plainly enough, that 
 Mademoiselle Hennequin, notwithstanding she 
 was a governess, was a favorite in the family; 
 and, I may add, out of it also — Betts Shoreham 
 being no sort of a connection of the Monsons. 
 I thought, moreover, that I discovered signs of 
 cross-purposes, as between the young people, 
 though I think a pocket-handkerchief subject to 
 those general laws, concerning secrets, that are 
 recognized among all honorable persons. Not 
 having been actually present on this occasion, 
 should I proceed to relate all that passed, or that 
 I fancied passed, it would be degrading myself to 
 the level of those newspapers which are in the 
 habit of retailing private conversations, and 
 which, like most small dealers in such things, 
 never retail fairly. 
 
 I saw no more of my mistress for a week. I 
 have reason to think that she had determined 
 never to use me; but female resolutions, in mat- 
 ters of dress, are not of the most inflexible 
 nature. There was a certain Mrs. Leamington, ^ 
 in New York, who gave a great ball, about this 
 time, and being in the same set as the Monsons, 
 
 ■MS., "to." 
 
 ^MS., "Learning"; in some latter parts of the MS. it 
 is given "Leamington." 
 
igo 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 the family was invited as a matter of course. It 
 would have surpassed the powers of self-denial to 
 keep me in the back-ground on such an occasion; 
 and Julia, having first cleared the way by owning 
 her folly to a very indulgent father, and a very 
 tormenting brother, determined nobly to bring 
 me out, let the effect on Betts Shoreham be what 
 it might. As the latter had no female friends to 
 trouble him, he was asked to join the Monsons — 
 the intimacy fully warranting the step. 
 
 Julia never looked more lovely than she did 
 that night. She anticipated much pleasure, and 
 her smiles were in proportion to her anticipations. 
 When all was ready, she took me from the 
 drawer, let a single drop of lavender fall in my 
 bosom, and tripped down stairs toward the draw- 
 ing-room; Betts Shoreham and Mademoiselle 
 Hennequin were together, and, for a novelty, 
 alone. I say, for a novelty, because the gover- 
 ness had few opportunities to see any one without 
 the presence of third persons, and because her 
 habits, as an unmarried and well-educated French 
 woman, indisposed her to tete-a-tetes with the 
 other sex. My mistress was lynx-eyed in all 
 that related to Betts Shoreham and the gover- 
 ness. A single glance told her that their recent 
 conversation had been more than usually inter- 
 esting; nor could I help seeing it myself — the 
 face of the governess being red, or in that con- 
 
 ' MS., " myself " is an after-insertion. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 191 
 
 dition, which, were she aught but a governess, 
 would be called suffused with blushes. Julia felt 
 uncomfortable — she felt herself to be de trap; 
 and, making an incoherent excuse, she had 
 scarcely taken a seat on a sofa, before she arose, 
 left the room, and ran upstairs again. In doing 
 so, however, the poor girl left me, inadvertently, 
 on the sofa she had so suddenly quitted, her- 
 self. 
 
 Betts Shoreham manifested no concern at this 
 movement, though Mademoiselle Hennequin pre- 
 cipitately changed her seat, which had been quite 
 near — approximatively near, as one might say — to 
 the chair occupied by the gentleman. This new 
 evolution placed the governess close at my side. 
 Now, whatever might have been the subject of 
 discourse between these two persons — for Made- 
 moiselle Hennequin was quite as youthful as my 
 mistress, let her beauty be as it might' — it was 
 not continued in my presence; on the contrary, 
 the young lady turned her eyes on me, instead of 
 looking at her companion, and then she raised me 
 in her hand, and commenced a critical examina- 
 tion of my person. 
 
 " That is a very beautiful handkerchief. Made- 
 moiselle Hennequin," said Betts Shoreham; 
 making the remark an excuse for following 
 the young lady to the sofa. "Had we heard of 
 
 ' MS., " let her beauty be as it might" replaces "what- 
 ever might be her beauty, as it was." 
 
192 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 its existence, our remarks the other night,' on 
 such a luxury, might have been more guarded." 
 
 No "^ answer was given. The governess gazed 
 on me intently, and ° tears began to course down 
 her cheeks, notwithstanding it was evident she 
 wished to conceal them. Ashamed of her weak- 
 ness, she endeavored to smile them away, and to 
 appear cheerful. 
 
 " What is there in that pocket-handkerchief, 
 dear Mademoiselle Hennequin," asked Betts 
 Shoreham, who had a pernicious habit of calling 
 young ladies with whom he was on terms of 
 tolerable intimacy "dear" — a habit that some- 
 times misled persons as to the degree of interest 
 he felt in his companions — " what can there be in 
 that pocket-handkerchief to excite tears from a 
 mind and heart* like yours? " 
 
 "My mind and heart, Mr. Shoreham, are not 
 as faultless, perhaps, as your goodness would 
 make them out to be. Envy is a very natural 
 feeling for a woman in matters of dress, they say; 
 and certainly I am not the owner of so beautiful 
 a pocket-handkerchief — -pardon me, Mr. Shore- 
 ham; I cannot command myself, and must be 
 guilty of the rudeness of leaving you alone, if — " 
 
 Mademoiselle Hennequin uttered no more, but 
 
 'MS., " the other night " is an after-insertion. 
 
 ''MS., originally, "But no." 
 
 ^ MS., originally, " and then." 
 
 * Graham's and Bro. J., "a heart." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 193 
 
 rushed from the room, with an impetuosity of 
 manner and feeling that I have often had occasion 
 to remark in young French women. As a matter 
 of course, I was left alone with Betts Shoreham. 
 
 I shall conceal nothing that ought to be told. 
 Betts Shoreham, notwithstanding her dependent 
 situation, and his own better fortunes, loved the 
 governess, and the governess loved Betts Shore- 
 ham. These were facts that I discovered at a 
 later day, though I began to suspect the truth 
 from that moment. Neither, however, knew of 
 the other's passion, though each hoped as an in- 
 nocent and youthful love will hope, and each 
 trembled as each hoped. Nothing explicit had 
 been said that evening; but much, very much, in 
 the way of sympathy and feeling had been re- 
 vealed, and, but for the inopportune entrance of 
 Julia and myself, all might have been told. 
 
194 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 There is no moment in the life of man when he 
 is so keenly sensitive on the subject of the per- 
 fection ' of his mistress as that in which he com- 
 pletely admits her power. All his jealousy is 
 actively^ alive to the smallest shade of fault, 
 although his feelings so much indispose him to 
 see any blemish. Betts Shoreham felt an un- 
 pleasant pang, even — yes, it amounted to a pang 
 — for in a few moments ' he would have offered 
 his hand — and men cannot receive* any draw- 
 back with indifference at such an instant — he 
 felt an unpleasant pang, then, as the idea crossed 
 his mind that Mademoiselle Hennequin could be 
 so violently affected by a feeling as unworthy as 
 that of^ envy. He had passed several years 
 abroad, and had got the common notion about 
 the selfishness of the French, and more particu- 
 larly their '' women, and his prejudices took the 
 
 'MS., "sensitive on the subject of the perfection " was 
 originally "alive to the perfection." 
 
 ^The printed versions; the MS. had originally "then," 
 afterward replaced by "keenly." 
 
 'MS., " minutes." 
 
 ■•MS., "receive" replaces "take." 
 
 ' MS., " that of " is an after-insertion. 
 
 «MS., "of their." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 
 
 195 
 
 alarm. But his love was much the strongest, and 
 soon looked down the distrust, however reason- 
 able, under the circumstances, the latter might 
 have appeared to a disinterested and cool-headed 
 observer. He had seen so much meek and pure- 
 spirited self-denial, so much high principle in the 
 conduct of Mademoiselle Hennequin, during an 
 intimacy which ' had now lasted six months, that 
 no passing feeling of doubt, like the one just felt, 
 could unsettle the confidence created by her vir- 
 tues. I know it may take more credit than be- 
 longs to most pocket-handkerchiefs to maintain 
 the problem of the virtues of a French governess 
 — a class of unfortunate persons that seems 
 doomed to condemnation by all the sages of our 
 modern imaginative literature. An English gov- 
 erness, or even an American governess, if, indeed, 
 there be such a being in nature, may be every- 
 thing that is respectable, and prudent, and wise, 
 and good; but the French governess has a sort 
 of ex-officio moral taint about her that throws her 
 without the pale of literary charities. Neverthe- 
 less, one or two of the most excellent women I 
 have ever known have been French governesses, 
 though I do not choose to reveal what this par- 
 ticular individual of the class turned out to be in 
 the end until the moment for the d^noAement of 
 her character shall regularly arrive. 
 
 There was not much time for Betts Shoreham 
 
 'MS., "which" replaces "that." 
 
196 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 to philosophize, and speculate on female caprices 
 and motives, John Monson making' his appear- 
 ance in as high evening dress as well comported 
 with what is called "republican simplicity." John 
 was a fine-looking fellow, six feet and an inch, 
 with large whiskers, a bushy head of hair, and 
 particularly white teeth. His friend was two 
 inches shorter, of much less showy appearance, 
 but of a more intellectual countenance, and of 
 juster proportions. Most persons, at first sight, 
 would praise John Monson's person and"* face, but 
 all would feel the superiority of Betts Shoreham's 
 on an acquaintance. The smile of the latter, in 
 particular, ^ was as winning and amiable as that of 
 a girl. It was that smile, on the one hand, and 
 his active, never dormant sympathy for her situ- 
 ation, on the other, which, united, had made 
 such an inroad on the young' governess's affec- 
 tions. 
 
 " It's deuced cold, Betts," said John, as he 
 came near the fire; " this delightful country of 
 ours has some confounded hard winters. I won- 
 der if it be^ patriotic to say ^m^ winters?" 
 
 " It's all common property, Monson — but, what 
 have become of your sister and Mademoiselle 
 
 'MS., originally, "soon making." 
 ^MS., "person and face" replaces "appearance." 
 'MS., "in particular" is an after-insertion, as is also 
 * " young." 
 
 'Bentley, "would be." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 197 
 
 Hennequin? They were both here a ' minute 
 since, and have vanished like — " 
 
 "What? — ghosts! — no, you dare not call them 
 that, lest their spirits take it in dudgeon. Julie ^ 
 is no ghost, though she is sometimes so delicate 
 and etherial, and, as for Henny — " 
 
 "Who?" exclaimed Betts, doubting if his ears 
 were true. 
 
 " Henny; Tote and Moll's governess. Whom 
 do you think I could mean else? I always call 
 her Henny, en famille, and I look upon you as 
 almost one of us since our travels." 
 
 " I am sure I can scarcely be grateful enough, 
 my dear fellow — but, you do ^ not call her so to 
 her face? " 
 
 " Why — no — perhaps not exactly in her very 
 teeth — and beautiful teeth she has, Betts — Julie's* 
 won't compare with them." 
 
 " Miss Monson has fine teeth, notwithstanding. 
 Perhaps Mademoiselle Hennequin — " 
 
 "Yes, Henny has the best teeth of any girl I 
 know. They are none of your pearls — some 
 pearls are yellowish, you know — but they are 
 teeth; just what ought to be in a handsome girl's 
 mouth. I have no objection to pearls in a neck- 
 
 'MS., originally, "but a." 
 
 2 MS., "July"; Bentley, "Julia." 
 
 ^ Bro. J. and Bentley, "do you," making an altogether 
 different query. 
 
 *MS., "July's"; Graham, "Julie's"; Bro. J. and Bent- 
 ley, "Julia's." 
 
198 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 lace, or in the pockets, but teeth are what are 
 wanted in the mouth, and Henny has just the 
 finest set I know of." 
 
 Betts Shoreham fidgeted at the " Henny," and 
 he had the weakness, at the ' moment, to wish 
 the young governess were not in a situation to be 
 spoken of so unceremoniously. He had not time 
 to express this feeling; before John Monson got 
 a glimpse of^ me, and had me under examina- 
 tion beneath the light of a very powerful lamp. 
 I declare that, knowing his aversion to our species, 
 I felt a glow in all my system at the liberties he 
 was taking. 
 
 " What have we here? " exclaimed John Mon- 
 son, in surprise; "has Miss Flowergarden made 
 a call, and is this her card? " 
 
 " I believe that pocket-handkerchief belongs to 
 your sister," answered Betts, drily, " if that be 
 what you mean." 
 
 " Jule! well, I am sorry to hear it. I did hope 
 that no sister of miiu would run into any such 
 foolish extravagance — do you own it, Jule? " who 
 entered the room at that instant — " is this bit of 
 a'' rag yours, or is it not more likely to be 
 Henny's?" 
 
 "Bit of a rag," cried the sister, snatching me 
 dexterously out of the spoiler's hands; "and 
 ' Henny,' too! This is not a bit of a rag, sir, but 
 
 Bro. J. and Bentley alterations: ^ " that " ; ^ " at " ; ' omit 
 this "a." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 199 
 
 a very pretty pocket-handkerchief, and you must 
 very well know that Mademoiselle Hennequin is 
 not likely to be the owner of anything as ' costly." 
 
 " And what did it cost, pray? At least tell me 
 that, if nothing else." 
 
 " I shall not gratify your curiosity, sir — a lady's 
 wardrobe is not to be dissected in this manner." 
 
 " Pray, sir, may I ask," Mr. Monson now com- 
 ing in, "did you pay for Jule's handkerchief? 
 Hang me, if I ever saw a more vulgar thing in 
 my life." 
 
 " The opinion is not likely to induce me to say 
 yes," answered the father, half-laughing, and yet 
 half-angry at his son's making such allusions be- 
 fore Betts — " never mind him, my dear; the hand- 
 kerchief is not half as^ expensive as his own 
 cigars." 
 
 " It shall be as thoroughly smoked, neverthe- 
 less," rejoined John, who was as near^ being 
 spoilt, and escaping, as was at all necessary. 
 "Ah, Julie, Julie, I am ashamed of thee." 
 
 This was an inauspicious commencement for an 
 evening from which so much happiness had been 
 anticipated; but Mrs. Monson was coming down, 
 and the carriages driving to the door. Mademoi- 
 selle Hennequin was summoned and the whole 
 party left the house. 
 
 ' Bentley, "so." 
 ^Bentley, "so." 
 ^Bro. J. and Bentley, "nearly." 
 
200 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 As a matter of course, it was a little out of the 
 common way that the governess was asked ' to make 
 one, in the invitations given to the Monsons. 
 But Mademoiselle Hennequin was a person of 
 such perfect bon ton, had so thoroughly the man- 
 ners of a lady, and was generally reputed so ac- 
 complished, that most of the friends of the family 
 felt themselves bound to notice her. There was 
 another reason, too, which justice requires I 
 should relate, though it is not so creditable to the 
 young lady as those already given. From some 
 quarter, or other, a rumor had got abroad that 
 Mrs.^ Monson's governess was of a noble family, 
 a circumstance that I soon discovered had great 
 influence in New York, doubtless by way of ex- 
 piation for the rigid democratical notions that so 
 universally pervade its society. And here I may 
 remark, en passant, that, while nothing is con- 
 sidered so disreputable in America as to be 
 "aristocratic," a word of very extensive signifi- 
 cation, as it embraces the tastes, the opinions, 
 the habits, the virtues, and sometimes the reli- 
 gion of the offending party — on the other hand, 
 nothing is so certain to attract attention as nobil- 
 ity. How many poor Poles have I seen dragged 
 about and made lions of, merely because they 
 were reputed noble, though the distinction in 
 
 ' MS., originally, "invited." 
 'Printed versions, " Miss." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 201 
 
 that country is pretty much the same as that 
 which exists in one portion of this great republic, 
 where one-half the population is white, and the 
 other black; the former making the noble, and 
 the latter the serf. 
 
 "What an exceedingly aristocratic pocket- 
 handkerchief Miss Monson has this evening," 
 observed Mrs. G. to Mr. W., as we passed into 
 Mrs. Leamington's rooms, that evening; "I don't 
 know when I've seen anything so aristocratic in 
 society." 
 
 " The Monsons are very aristocratic in all 
 things; I understand they dine at six." 
 
 "Yes," put in Miss F., "and use finger-bowls 
 every day." 
 
 " How aristocratic! " 
 
 " Very — they even say that, since they have 
 come back from Europe, the last time, matters 
 are pushed farther than ever. The ladies insist 
 on kneeling at prayers, instead of reclining, like 
 all the rest of the world." 
 
 " Did one ever hear of anything so aristo- 
 cratic! " 
 
 "They do say, but I will not vouch for its 
 truth, that Mr. and Mrs. Monson insist on all 
 their children calling them 'father' and 'mother,' 
 instead of 'pa' and ' ma.'" 
 
 "Why, Mr. W., that is downright monarchical; 
 is it not?" 
 
 " It's difiScult to say what is, and what is not 
 
202 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 monarchical, now-a-days; though I think one is 
 pretty safe in pronouncing it anti-republican." 
 
 " It is patriarchal, rather," observed a wit, who 
 belonged to the group. 
 
 Into this " aristocratical " j^/ I was now regu- 
 larly introduced. Many longing and curious eyes 
 were drawn toward me, though the company in 
 this house was generally too well bred to criticise 
 articles of dress very' closely. Still, in every 
 country, aristocracy, monarchy, or democracy, 
 there are privileged classes, and in all companies, 
 privileged persons. One of the latter took the 
 liberty of asking Julia to leave me in her keep- 
 ing, while the other danced; and I was thus tem- 
 porarily transferred to a circle, in which several 
 other pocket-handkerchiefs had been collected, 
 with a view to compare our several merits and 
 demerits. The reader will judge of my surprise, 
 when, the examination being ended, and the 
 judgment being rendered altogether in my favor, 
 I found myself familiarly addressed by the name 
 that I bore in the family circle, or, as No. 7; for 
 pocket-handkerchiefs never speak to each other 
 except on the principle of decimals. It was No. 
 12, or my relative of the extreme cot^ gauche, who 
 had, strangely enough, found his way into this 
 very room, and was now lying cheek-by-jowl with 
 me again, in old Mrs. Eyelet's lap. Family af- 
 
 'MS., originally, "too." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 203 
 
 fection made us glad to meet, and we had a hun- 
 dred questions to put to each other, in a breath. 
 No. 12 had commenced life a violent republi- 
 can, and this simply because he heard nothing 
 read but republican newspapers; a sufficiently 
 simple reason, as all know who have heard both 
 sides of any question. Shortly after I was pur- 
 chased by poor, dear Adrienne, a young Ameri- 
 can traveller had stepped into the magasin, and, 
 with the recklessness that distinguishes the ex- 
 penditures of his countrymen, swept off half-a- 
 dozen of the family at one purchase. Accident 
 gave him the liberal end of the piece, a circum- 
 stance to which he never would have assented 
 had he known the fact, for, being an attachi of 
 the legation of his own country, he was ex-officio 
 aristocratic. My brother amused me exceedingly 
 with his account of the indignation he felt at find- 
 ing himself in a very hot-bed of monarchical 
 opinions, in the set at the American legation. 
 What rendered these diplomates so much the more 
 aristocratic, was the novelty of the thing, scarcely 
 one of them having been accustomed to society 
 at home. After passing a few months in such 
 company, my brother's boss, who was a mere 
 travelling diplomatist, came home and began to 
 run a brilliant career in the circles of New York, 
 on the faith of a European reputation. Alas! 
 there is in pocket-handkerchief nature a disposi- 
 tion to act by contraries. The "more you call. 
 
204 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 the more I won't come " principle was active in 
 poor No. I2's mind, and he had not been a month 
 in New York society, before he came out an ultra 
 monarchist. New York society has more than 
 one of these sudden political conversions to an- 
 swer for. It is such a thorough development of 
 the democratic principle that the faith of few 
 believers is found strong enough to withstand it. 
 Every body knows how niuch a prospect varies by 
 position. Thus, you shall stand on the aristo- 
 cratic side of a room filled with company, and 
 everything will present a vulgar and democratic 
 appearance; or, vice versa, you shall occupy a 
 place among the oi polloi, and all is aristocratic, 
 exclusive, and offensive. So it had' proved with 
 my unfortunate kinsman. All his notions had 
 changed; instead of finding the perfection he had 
 preached and extolled so long, he found nothing 
 to admire, and every thing to condemn. In a 
 word, never was a pocket-handkerchief so miser- 
 able, and that, too, on grounds so philosophical 
 and profound, met with, on its entrance into ac- 
 tive life. I do believe, if my brother could have 
 got back to France, he would have written a book 
 on America, which, while it overlooked many 
 vices and foibles that deserve to be cut up with- 
 out mercy, would have thrown even de Tocque- 
 ville into the shade, in the way of political blun- 
 ders. But I forbear; this latter writer being un- 
 
 ' Bentley, " had it." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 205 
 
 answerable among those neophytes who, having 
 never thought of their own system, unless as 
 Englishmen, are overwhelmed with admiration at 
 finding anything of another character advanced 
 about it. At least, such are the sentiments en- 
 tertained by a very high-priced pocket-handker- 
 chief. 
 
 Mademoiselle Hennequin, I took occasion to 
 remark, occupied much of the attention of Betts 
 Shoreham, at Mrs. Leamington's' ball. They 
 understood each other perfectly, though the 
 young man could not get over the feeling created 
 by the governess's manner when she first met 
 with me. Throughout the evening, indeed, her 
 eye seemed studiously averted from me, as if she 
 struggled to suppress certain sentiments or sen- 
 sations, that she was unwilling to betray. Now, 
 these sentiments, if sentiments they were, or sen- 
 sations, as they were beyond all dispute, might 
 be envy, — repinings at another's better fortunes, — 
 or they might be excited by philosophical and 
 commendable reflections touching those follies 
 which so often lead the young and thoughtless 
 into extravagance. Betts tried hard to believe 
 them the last, though, in his inmost heart, he 
 would a thousand times rather that the woman 
 he loved should smile on a weakness of this sort, 
 in a girl of her own age, than that she should 
 show herself to be prematurely wise, if it was 
 
 ' MS., " Learning's." 
 
2o6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 wisdom purchased at the expense of the light- 
 headedness and sympathies of her years and sex. 
 On a diminished scale, I had awakened in his 
 bosom some such uneasy distrust as the pocket- 
 handkerchief of Desdemona is known to have 
 aroused in that of the Moor. 
 
 Nor can I say that Julia Monson enjoyed her- 
 self as much as she had ' anticipated. Love she 
 did not Betts Shoreham; for that was a passion 
 her temperament and training induced her to 
 wait for some pretty unequivocal demonstrations 
 on the part of the gentleman before she yielded 
 to it; but she liked him vastly, and nothing would 
 have been easier than to have blown this smoul- 
 dering preference into a flame. She was too 
 young, and, to say the truth, too natural and 
 uncalculating, to be always remembering that 
 Betts owned a good old-fashioned landed estate 
 that was said to produce twenty, and which did 
 actually produce eleven thousand a year, nett; 
 and that his house in the country was generally 
 said to be one of the very best in the state. For 
 all this she cared absolutely nothing, or nothing 
 worth mentioning. There were enough young 
 men of as good estates, and there were a vast 
 many of no estates at all, ready and willing to 
 take their chances in the " cutting up " of " Old 
 Monson," but there were few who were as agree- 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley omit " had." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 207 
 
 able, as well-mannered, as handsome, or who had 
 seen as much of the world, as Betts Shoreham. 
 Of course, she had never fancied the young man 
 in love with herself, but, previously to the impres- 
 sion she had quite recently imbibed of his attach- 
 ment to her mother's governess, she had been 
 accustomed to think such a thing might come to 
 pass, and that she should not be sorry if it did. 
 
 I very well understand this is not the fash- 
 ionable, or, possibly, the polite way of describing 
 those incipient sentiments which form the germ 
 of love in the virgin affections of young ladies, 
 and that a skillful and refined poet would use 
 very different language on the occasion; but I 
 began this history to represent things as they are, 
 and such is the manner in which " Love's Young 
 Dream " appears to a pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 Among other things that were unpleasant. Miss 
 Monson was compelled to overhear sundry re- 
 marks of Betts' devotion to the governess, as she 
 stood in the dance, some of which reached me, 
 also. 
 
 " Who is the lady to whom Mr. Shoreham is so 
 d^vou^, this evening? " asked Miss N. of Miss T. 
 " 'Tis quite a new face, and, if one might be so 
 presuming, quite a new manner." 
 
 " That is Mademoiselle Henny,' the governess 
 of Mrs. Monson's children, my dear. They say 
 
 IMS., "Hennie." 
 
2o8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 she is all accomplishments, and quite a miracle 
 of propriety. It is also rumored that she is, some 
 way, a very distinguished person, reduced by 
 those horrid revolutions of which they have so 
 many in Europe." 
 
 " Noble, I dare say ! " 
 
 "Oh! that at least. Some persons affirm that' 
 she is s&m\-royal. The country is full of broken- 
 down royalty and nobility. Do you think she 
 has an aristocratic air?" 
 
 " Not in the least — her ears are too small." 
 
 " Why, my dear, that is the very symbol of 
 nobility! When my Aunt Harding was in Naples, 
 she knew the Duke of Montecarbana, intimately; 
 and she says he had the smallest ears she ever 
 beheld on a human being. The Montecarbanas 
 are a family as old as the ruins of Poestum, they 
 say." 
 
 " Well, to my notion, nobility and teaching 
 little girls French and Italian, and their gammes, 
 have very little in common. I had thought Mr. 
 Shoreham an admirer of Miss Monson's." 
 
 Now, unfortunately, my mistress overheard 
 this remark. Her feelings were just in that agi- 
 tated state to take the alarm, and she determined 
 to flirt with a young man of the name of Thurs- 
 ton, with a view to awaken Betts' jealousy, if he 
 had any, and to give vent to her own spleen. 
 
 'MS., ■• affirm that" replaces "say." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 209 
 
 This Tom' Thurston was one of those tall, good- 
 looking, young fellows who come from, nobody 
 knows where, get into society, nobody knows 
 how, and live on, nobody knows what. It was 
 pretty generally understood that he was on the 
 lookout for a rich wife, and encouragement from 
 Julia Monson was not likely to be disregarded by 
 such a person. To own the truth, my mistress 
 carried matters much too far — so far, indeed, as 
 to attract attention from every body but those 
 most concerned; viz., her own mother and Betts 
 Shoreham. Although elderly ladies play cards 
 very little, just now, in American society, or, 
 indeed, in any other, they have their inducements 
 for rendering the well-known office of matron, at 
 a ball, a mere sinecure. Mrs. Monson, too, was 
 an indulgent mother, and seldom saw anything 
 very wrong in her own children. Julia, in the 
 main, had sufficient retinue, and a suspicion of her 
 want of discretion on this point, was one of the 
 last things that would cross the fond parent's 
 mind at Mrs. Leamington's '' ball. Others, how- 
 ever, were less confiding. 
 
 " Your daughter is in high spirits to-night," ob- 
 served a single lady of a certain age, who was 
 sitting near^ Mrs. Monson; "I do not remember 
 to have ever seen her so gay." 
 
 'MS., originally, "Mr." 
 ^MS., " Learning's." 
 'MS., originally, "by." 
 
2IO AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 "Yes, dear girl, she is happy," — poor Julia 
 was anything but that just then — " but youth is 
 the time for happiness, if it is ever to come in 
 this life." 
 
 " Is Miss Monson addicted to such very high 
 spirits?" continued one, who was resolute to tor- 
 ment, and vexed that the mother could not be 
 sufificiently alarmed to look around. 
 
 "Always — when in agreeable company. I 
 think it a great happiness, ma'am, to possess 
 good spirits." 
 
 " No doubt — yet one needn't be always fifteen, 
 as Lady Mary Wortley Montague said," mut- 
 tered the other, giving up the point, and chan- 
 ging her seat, in order that she might speak her 
 mind more freely into the ear of a congenial 
 spirit. 
 
 Half an hour later we were all in the carriages, 
 again, on our way home; all but Betts Shoreham, 
 I should say, for, having seen the ladies cloaked, 
 he had taken his leave at Mrs. Leamington's ' 
 door, as uncertain as ever whether or not to im- 
 pute envy to a being, who, in all other respects, 
 seemed to him to be faultless. He had to retire 
 to an uneasy pillow, undetermined whether to 
 pursue his original intention of making the poor 
 friendless French girl independent, by an offer of 
 his hand, or whether to decide that her amiable 
 
 'MS., "Learning's." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 211 
 
 and gentle qualities were all seeming, and that 
 she was not what she appeared to be. Betts 
 Shoreham owed his distrust to national prejudice, 
 and well was he paid for entertaining so vile a 
 companion. Had Mademoiselle been an Ameri- 
 can girl, he would not have thought a second 
 time of the emotion she had betrayed in regard- 
 ing my beauties; but he had been taught to be- 
 lieve all French women managing and hypocriti- 
 cal; a notion that the experience of a young man 
 in Paris would not be very likely to destroy. ' 
 
 "Well," cried John Monson, as the carriage 
 drove ^ from Mrs. Leamington's^ door, "this is 
 the last ball I shall go to in New York"; which 
 declaration he repeated twenty times that season, 
 and as often broke. 
 
 "What is the matter now. Jack? " demanded 
 the father. " I found it very pleasant — six or 
 seven of us old fellows made a very agreeable 
 evening of it." 
 
 "Yes, I dare say, sir; but you were not com- 
 pelled to dance in a room eighteen by twenty- 
 four, with a hundred people treading on your 
 toes, or brushing their heads in your face." 
 
 "Jack can find no room for dancing since the 
 great ball of the Salle de I Opera at Paris," ob- 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley botch this finale as follows: "a 
 notion that a young man in Paris would not be likely to 
 destroy." 
 
 2 Printed versions, "drew." 
 
 'MS., " Learning's." 
 
212 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 served the mother, smiling. " I hope you enjoyed 
 yourself better, Julia? " 
 
 My mistress started; then she' answered with a 
 sort of hysterical glee — 
 
 "Oh! I have found the evening delightful, 
 ma'am. I could have remained two hours longer." 
 
 " And you. Mademoiselle Hennequin; I hope 
 you, too, were agreeably entertained? " 
 
 The governess answered meekly, and with a 
 slight tremor in her voice. 
 
 " Certainly, madame," she said, " I have en- 
 joyed myself; though dancing always seems an 
 amusement I have no right to share in." 
 
 There was some little embarrassment, and I 
 could perceive an impulse in Julia to press nearer 
 to her rival, as if impelled by a generous wish to 
 manifest her sympathy. But John's^ protests 
 soon silenced everything else, and we alighted, 
 and soon went to rest. 
 
 The next morning Julia sent for me down to be 
 exhibited^ to one or two friends, my fame having 
 spread in consequence of my late appearance. I 
 was praised, kissed, called a pretty dear, and ex- 
 tolled like a spoiled child, though Miss W. did 
 not fail to carry * the intelligence far and near 
 
 ' As in Graham and MS. ; the latter was originally "and 
 then she"; Bro. J. and Bentley give it "and then an- 
 swered." 
 
 ^ The printed versions give it "Tom's," for no percepti- 
 ble reason. 
 
 'MS., originally, " to exhibit." 
 
 *MS., Mr. Cooper started to write "spread." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 213 
 
 that Miss Monson's much-talked-of pocket-hand- 
 kerchief was nothing, after all, but the thing Miss 
 Halfacre had brought out the night of the day 
 her father had stopped payment. Some even be- 
 gan to nick-name me the insolvent pocket-hand- 
 kerchief. 
 
 I thought Julia sad after her friends had all 
 left her. I lay neglected on a sofa, and the pretty 
 girl's brow became thoughtful. Of a sudden she 
 was aroused from a brown study — reflective 
 mood, perhaps, would be a more select phrase — 
 by the unexpected appearance of young Thurston. 
 There was a sort of "Ah! have I caught you 
 alone! " expression about this adventurer's eye, 
 even while he was making his bow, that struck 
 me. I looked for great events, nor was I alto- 
 gether disappointed. In one minute he was seated 
 at Julia's side, on the same sofa, and within two 
 feet of her; in ' two more he had brought in play 
 his usual tricks of flattery. My mistress listened^ 
 languidly, and yet not altogether without interest. 
 She was piqued at Betts Shoreham's indifference, 
 had known her present admirer several months, 
 if dancing in the same set can be called knowing, 
 and had never been made love to before, at least 
 in a manner so direct and unequivocal. The 
 young man had tact enough to discover that he 
 had an advantage, and fearful that some one 
 
 'MS., originally, "and in." 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley, " lingered "(!). 
 
314 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 might come in and interrupt the tete-d-tete, he 
 magnanimously resolved to throw all on a single 
 cast, and come to the point at once. 
 
 " I think, Miss Monson," he continued, after a 
 very beautiful specimen of rigmarole in the way 
 of love-making — a rigmarole that might have 
 very fairly' figured in an editor's law and logic, ^ 
 after he had been beaten in a libel suit,^ — " I think. 
 Miss Monson, you cannot have overlooked the 
 very particular attentions I have endeavored to 
 pay you, ever since I have been so fortunate as 
 to have made your acquaintance? " 
 
 " I ! — Upon my word Mr. Thurston, I am not 
 at all conscious of having been the object of any 
 such attentions! " 
 
 " No? — That is ever the way with the innocent 
 and single-minded! This is what we sincere and 
 diffident men have to contend with in affairs of 
 the heart. Our bosoms may be torn with ten 
 thousand distracting cares, and yet the modesty 
 of a truly virtuous female heart shall be so ab- 
 sorbed in its own placid serenity as to be indiffer- 
 ent to the pangs it is unconsciously inflicting! " 
 
 " Mr. Thurston, your language is strong — and 
 — a little — a little unintelligible." 
 
 " I dare say — ma'am — I never expect to be in- 
 
 'MS., "very fairly" is an after-insertion. 
 ^MS., "and logic" is an after-insertion. 
 'Note. — See Lounsbury's "Life of Cooper," on the 
 latter's libel suits against Greeley, Weed, and others. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 215 
 
 telligible again. When the ' heart is oppressed 
 with unutterable anguish, condemned to conceal 
 that passion which is at once the torment and 
 delight of life ' — when ' his lip, the ruby harbinger 
 of joy, lies pale and cold, the miserable append- 
 age of a mang — ' that is. Miss Monson, I mean 
 to say, when all our faculties are engrossed by 
 one dear object, we are often incoherent and 
 mysterious, as a matter of course." 
 
 Tom Thurston came very near wrecking him- 
 self on the quicksands of the romantic school. 
 He had begun to quote from a speech delivered 
 by Gouverneur ' Morris, on the subject of the 
 right of deposit at New Orleans, and which he 
 had spoken at college, and was near getting into 
 a part of the subject that might not have been so 
 apposite, but retreated in time. By way of cli- 
 max, the lover laid his hand on me, and raised 
 me to his eyes in an abstracted manner, as if un- 
 conscious of what he was doing, and wanted to 
 brush away a tear. 
 
 " What a confounded rich old fellow the father 
 must be," thought Tom, " to give her such pocket- 
 handkerchiefs! " 
 
 I felt like a wren that escapes from the hawk 
 when the rogue laid me down. 
 
 Alas! Poor Julia was the dupe of all this act- 
 ing. Totally unpracticed herself, abandoned by 
 
 ' Bentley's English compositor corrects (?) this spelling 
 to "Governor." 
 
2l6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 the usages of the society in which she had been 
 educated very much to the artifices of any for- 
 tune-hunter, and vexed with Betts Shoreham, she 
 was in the worst possible frame of mind to resist 
 such eloquence and love. She had seen Tom at 
 all the balls in the best houses, found no fault 
 with his exterior and manners, both of which 
 were fashionable and showy, and now discovered 
 that he had a most sympathetic heart, over which, 
 unknown to herself, she had obtained a very un- 
 limited control. 
 
 "You do not answer me, Miss Monson," con- 
 tinued Tom, peeping out at one side of me, for 
 I was still at his eyes — "you do not answer me, 
 cruel, inexorable girl!" 
 
 " What would you have me say, Mr. Thurston? " 
 
 "Sayj)/^5, dearest, loveliest, most perfect being 
 of the whole human family." 
 
 " Yes, then; if that will relieve your mind; it 
 is a relief very easily bestowed." 
 
 Now, Tom Thurston was as skilled in a for- 
 tune-hunter's wiles as Napoleon was in military 
 strategy.' He saw he had obtained an immense 
 advantage for ^ the future, and he forebore to press 
 the matter any further at the moment. The 
 "yes " had been uttered more in pleasantry than 
 with any other feeling,' but, by holding it in re- 
 
 MS. alterations: ^"military strategy" was originally 
 " the tactics of war " ; ^ " for " was originally " in the way 
 of"; '"with any other feeling" was originally "in any 
 other manner." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 217 
 
 serve, presuming on it gradually, and using it in 
 a crisis, it might be worth — " let me see," cal- 
 culated Tom, as he went whistling down Broad- 
 way, " that ' yes ' may be made to yield at least a 
 cool ;^ 100,000.' There are John, this girl and two 
 little ones. Old Monson is worth every dollar of 
 $700,000' — none of your skyrockets, but a 
 known, old fortune, in substantial houses and 
 lands — let us suppose the old woman outlive 
 him, and that she gets her full thirds; i'^^/will 
 leave $466,660.' Perhaps John may get a couple 
 of hundred thousand, and even then each of the 
 girls will have $88,888.' If one of the little 
 things should happen to die— and there's lots of 
 scarlet fever about — why that would fetch it up 
 at once to a round hundred thousand. I don't 
 think the old woman would be likely to marry* 
 again at her time of life. One mustn't calculate 
 too confidently on that, however, as I would have 
 her myself for half of such thirds." ^ 
 
 ' Bentley, here and elsewhere throughout the entire work 
 substitutes " dollars " for the dollar mark, thus " 700,000 
 dollars." 
 
 ^This is the end of the third Graham installment; after 
 it, in Graham and the MS., is, "(To be concluded in our 
 next.)." 
 
2l8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 For a week nothing material transpired. All 
 that time I lay in the drawer, gaining a knowl- 
 edge of what passed, in the best manner I could. 
 Betts Shoreham was a constant visitor at the 
 house, and Tom Thurston made ' his appearance 
 with a degree of punctuality that began to attract 
 notice, among the inmates of the house on the 
 opposite side of the street. All this time, how- 
 ever, Tom treated Julia with the greatest respect, 
 and even distance, turning more of his attention 
 toward Mrs. Monson. He acted in this manner 
 because he thought he had secured a sufficient 
 lien on the young lady, by means of her "yes," 
 and knew how important it was for one who could 
 show none of the usual inducements for^ consent 
 to the parents, to obtain the good-will of the 
 "old lady." 
 
 At the end of the week, Mrs. Monson opened 
 her house to receive the world. As a matter of 
 course, I was brought out on this occasion. 
 Now, Betts Shoreham and Mademoiselle Henne- 
 quin had made great progress toward an under- 
 standing in the course of this week, though the 
 
 MS. alterations: 'Originally "began to make " ; ^origi- 
 nally " for," then " to," finally " for " again. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 219 
 
 lady becoming' more and more conscious of the 
 interest she had created in the heart of the gen- 
 tleman, her own conduct got to be " cautious and 
 reserved. At length, Betts actually carried mat- 
 ters so far as to write a letter, that was as much 
 to the point as a man could very well come.^ In 
 a word, he offered his hand to the excellent 
 young French woman, assuring her, in very pas- 
 sionate and suitable terms, that she had been mis- 
 tress of his affections ever since the first month 
 of their acquaintance. In this letter, he implored 
 her not to be so cruel * as to deny him an inter- 
 view, and there were a few exceedingly pretty* 
 reproaches, touching her recent coy and reserved 
 deportment. 
 
 Mademoiselle Hennequin was obliged to read 
 this letter in Julia's room, and she took such a 
 position to do it, as exposed every line to my 
 impertinent gaze, as I lay on the bed, among the 
 other finery that was got out for the evening. 
 Mrs. Monson was present, and she had summoned 
 the governess, in order to consult her on the sub- 
 ject of some of the ornaments of the supper- 
 table. Fortunately, both Julia and her mother 
 
 MS. alterations: 'Originally "though as the lady be- 
 came"; ^ " got to be" replaces "became"; 'originally 
 this portion read, " that came to the point as plainly as 
 man could come"; ^originally "cruel to him as," etc.; 
 ' " exceedingly pretty " is an after-insertion. 
 
 Note. — On the back of the sheet of MS. covering the 
 first part of this chapter, is written in Mr. Cooper's hand, 
 "on no account fail to send a proof." 
 
220 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 were too much engaged to perceive the tears 
 that rolled down the cheeks of the poor stranger, 
 as she read the honest declaration of a fervid ' 
 and manly love, nor did either detect the manner 
 in which the letter was pressed to Mademoiselle 
 Hennequin's heart, when she had done reading it 
 the second time. 
 
 Just at this instant a servant came to announce 
 Mr. Shoreham's presence in the " breakfast- 
 room.'"* This was a retired and little frequented 
 part of the house at that hour, Betts having been 
 shown into it, in consequence of the preparations 
 that were going on in the proper reception-rooms. 
 
 "Julia, my dear, you will have to go below — 
 although it is at a most inconvenient moment." 
 
 " No, mother — let Mr. Betts Shoreham time 
 his visits better — George, say that the ladies are 
 engaged y 
 
 " That will not do," interrupted the mother, in 
 some concern— " we are too intimate for such an 
 excuse — would you, Mademoiselle Hennequin, 
 have the goodness to see Mr. Shoreham for a few 
 minutes — you must come into our American cus- 
 toms, sooner or later, and this may be a favorable 
 moment to commence." 
 
 Mrs. Monson laughed pleasantly as she made 
 this request, and her kindness and delicacy to 
 the governess were too marked and unremitted 
 
 ' Bentley, "fervent." 
 
 ^MS., originally, "little breakfast-room." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 221 
 
 to permit the latter to think of hesitating. She 
 had laid her own handkerchief down at my side 
 to read the letter, but' feeling the necessity of 
 drying her eyes, she caught me up by mistake, 
 smiled her assent, and left the apartment.^ 
 
 Mademoiselle Hennequin did not venture be- 
 low, until she had gone into her own room. 
 Here she wept freely for a minute or two, and 
 then she bathed her eyes in cold water, and used 
 the napkin in drying them. Owing to this cir- 
 cumstance, I was fortunately a witness of all that 
 passed in her interview with her lover. 
 
 The instant Betts Shoreham saw that he was to 
 have an interview with the charming French girl, 
 instead of with Julia Monson, his countenance 
 brightened; and, as if supposing the circumstance 
 proof of his success, he seized the governess' 
 hand, and carried it to his lips in a very carniv- 
 orous fashion. The lady, however, succeeded in 
 retaining her hand, if she did not positively pre- 
 serve' it from being devoured. 
 
 " A thousand, thousand thanks, dearest Made- 
 moiselle Hennequin," said Betts, in an incoherent, 
 half-sane manner; "you have read my letter, and 
 I may interpret this interview favorably. I 
 meant to have told all to Mrs. Monson, had she 
 come down, and asked her kind interference — 
 but it is much, much better as it is." 
 
 'MS., originally, "and." 
 2 MS., originally, "room." 
 ^ MS., " rescue." 
 
223 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 "You will do well, monsieur, not to speak to 
 Madame Monson on the subject at all," answered 
 Mademoiselle Hennequin, with an expression of 
 countenance that I found quite inexplicable; 
 since it was not happy, nor was it altogether the 
 reverse. " This must be our last meeting, and it 
 were better that no one knew anything of its 
 nature." 
 
 " Then my vanity — my hopes have misled me, 
 and I have no interest in your feelings ! " 
 
 "I do not say that, monsieur; oh! non — non — ■ 
 I am far from saying as much as that" — poor 
 girl, her face declared a hundred times more than 
 her tongue, that she was sincere. " I do not — 
 cannot say I have no interest in one, who so gen- 
 erously overlooks my poverty, my utter destitu- 
 tion of all worldly greatness, and offers to share 
 with me his fortune and his honorable position — " 
 
 "This is not what I ask — what I had hoped to 
 earn — gratitude is not love." 
 
 " Gratitude easily becomes love in a woman's 
 heart," answered the dear creature, with a smile 
 and a look that Betts would have been a mere 
 dolt not to have comprehended — "and it is my 
 duty to take care that my gratitude does not 
 entertain this weakness." 
 
 " Mademoiselle Hennequin, for mercy's sake, 
 be as frank and simple as I know vour nature 
 prompts — do you, can you love me? " 
 
 Of course such a direct question, put in a very 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 223 
 
 categorical way, caused the questioned to blush, 
 if it did not induce her to smile. The first she 
 did in a very pretty and engaging manner, though 
 I thought she hesitated about indulging in the 
 last. 
 
 "Why should I say ' yes,' when it can lead to 
 no good result? " 
 
 " Then destroy all hope at once, and say no." 
 
 "That would be to give you — to give us both 
 unnecessary pain. Besides, it might not be 
 strictly true — I could love — Oh! No one can 
 tell how my heart could love where it was right 
 and proper." 
 
 After this, I suppose it is unnecessary for me 
 to say, that Betts soon brought the category of 
 possibilities into one of certainty. To own the 
 truth, he carried everything by his impetuosity, 
 reducing the governess to own that what she 
 admitted she could do so well, she had already 
 done in a very complete and thorough manner. 
 I enjoyed this scene excessively, nor was it over 
 in a minute. Mademoiselle Hennequin used me 
 several times to wipe away tears, and it is strong 
 proof how much both parties were thinking of 
 other matters, that neither discovered who was 
 present at so interesting a tete-d-tete. 
 
 At length came the d^noilement. After con- 
 fessing how much she loved Betts, how happy 
 she would be could she be his slave all the days 
 of her life, how miserable she was in knowing 
 
224 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 that he had placed his affections on her, and how 
 much more miserable she should be, had she 
 learned he had not, Mademoiselle Hennequin 
 almost annihilated the young man by declaring 
 that it was utterly impossible for her to consent 
 to become his wife. The reason was the differ- 
 ence in fortune, and the impossibility that she 
 should take advantage of his passion to lead him 
 into a connection that he might afterward regret. 
 Against this decision, Betts reasoned warmly, but 
 seriously, in vain. Had Mademoiselle Henne- 
 quin been an American, instead of a French girl, 
 her feelings would not have been so sensitive on 
 this point, for, in this great republic, every body 
 but the fortune-hunters — an exceedingly con- 
 temptible class — considers a match without 
 money, quite as much a matter of course, as a 
 match with. But, the governess had been edu- 
 cated under a different system, and it struck her 
 imagination as very proper, that she should make 
 both herself and her lover miserable, because he 
 had two hundred thousand dollars, and she had 
 not as many hundreds.^ All this strangely con- 
 flicted with Betts' preconceived opinion of a 
 French woman's selfishness, and, while he was 
 disposed to believe his adored perfection, he 
 almost feared it was a trick. Of such contra- 
 dictory materials is the human mind composed! 
 
 ' MS., " not as many hundreds " replaces " not a cent." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 225 
 
 At length the eyes of Betts fell on me, who 
 was still in the hand of Mademoiselle Hennequin, 
 and had several times been applied to her eyes 
 unheeded. It was evident I revived unpleasant 
 recollections, and the young man could not avoid 
 letting an expression escape him, that sufficiently 
 betrayed his feelings.' 
 
 "This handkerchief!" exclaimed the young 
 governess — "Ah! it is that of Mademoiselle 
 Julie, which I must have taken by mistake. But 
 why should this handkerchief awaken any feel- 
 ings in you, monsieur? You are not about to 
 enact the Moor, in ^ your days of wooing? " 
 
 This was said sweetly, and withal a little archly, 
 for the poor girl was glad to turn the conversa- 
 tion from its harassing and painful points; but 
 Betts was in no humor for pleasantry, and he 
 spoke out in a way to give his mistress some clue 
 to his thoughts. 
 
 " That cursed handkerchief! " — it is really in- 
 decent in young men to use such improper lan- 
 guage, but they little heed what they say when 
 strongly excited — " that cursed handkerchief has 
 given me as much pain, as it appears also to have 
 given you. I wish I knew the real secret of its 
 connection with your feelings; for, I confess, like 
 that of Desdemona's, it has excited distrust, 
 though for a very different cause." 
 
 ^ Bentley has " him " instead of " his feelings." 
 2 MS., originally, " even in." 
 
226 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 The cheeks of Mademoiselle Hennequin were 
 pale, and her brow thoughtful. Still, she had a 
 sweet smile for Betts; and, though ignorant of 
 the nature of his suspicions, which she would 
 have scarcely pardoned, it was her strongest wish 
 to leave no darker cloud between them, than the 
 one she felt it her duty to place there herself. 
 She answered, therefore, frankly and simply, 
 though not without betraying strong emotion as 
 she proceeded. 
 
 "This handkerchief is well known to me," an- 
 swered the young French woman; "it' revives the 
 recollections of some of the most painful scenes 
 of a life that has never seen much sunshine. You 
 have heard me speak of a grandmother, Mr. 
 Shoreham, who took care of my childhood, and 
 who died in my arms. That handkerchief I 
 worked for her support in her last illness, and this 
 lace — yes, this beautiful lace, was a part of that 
 beloved grandmother's bridal trousseau. I put it 
 where you see it to enhance the value of my 
 labors." 
 
 " I see it all!" exclaimed the repentant Betts — 
 "feel it all, dearest, dearest Mademoiselle Hen- 
 nequin; and I hope this exquisite work, this re- 
 fined taste brought all the comforts and reward 
 you had a right to anticipate." 
 
 A shade of anguish crossed the face of Adri- 
 
 ' MS., originally, "and." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 227 
 
 enne — for it was no other ' — as she gazed at me, 
 and recalled all the scenes of her sufferings and 
 distress. Then I knew her again, for time and a 
 poor memory, with some development of person, 
 had caused me to forget the appearance of the 
 lovely creature who may be said to have made 
 me what I am; but one glance at her, with that 
 expression of intense suffering on her counte- 
 nance, renewed all my earlier impressions. 
 
 " I received as much as I merited, perhaps," 
 returned the meek-minded girl — for she was 
 proud only on what she fancied right — " and 
 enough to give my venerated parent Christian 
 burial. They were days of want and sorrow that 
 succeeded, during which, Betts, I toiled for bread 
 like an Eastern slave, the trodden on and abused 
 hireling of a selfish milliner. Accident at length 
 placed^ me in a family as a governess. This 
 family happened to be acquainted with Madame 
 Monson, and an offer that was brilliant to me, 
 in my circumstances, brought me to America. 
 You see by all this how unfit I am to be your 
 wife, monsieur." You would blush to have it 
 said you had married a French milliner! " 
 
 " But you are not a milliner, in that sense, 
 dearest Adrienne — for you must suffer me to call 
 you by that name — you are a lady reduced by 
 
 ' MS., " no other " replaces " she." 
 
 MS. alterations: ^This portion originallyread, "milliner, 
 until accident placed "; ^originally " Monsieur Shoreham." 
 
228 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 revolutions and misfortunes. The name of Hen- 
 nequin, I know is respectable, and what care I 
 for money, when so much worth is to be found 
 on your side of the scale. Money would only 
 oppress me, under such circumstances." 
 
 "Your generosity almost overcomes my scru- 
 ples, but it may not be. The name to which I 
 am entitled is certainly not one to be ashamed of 
 — it is far more illustrious than that of Henne- 
 quin, respectable as is the last; but of what ac- 
 count is a Tiame to one in my condition! " 
 
 "And your family name is not Hennequin?" 
 asked the lover, anxiously. 
 
 " It is not. My poor grandmother assumed 
 the name of Hennequin, when we went last to 
 Paris, under an apprehension that the guillotine 
 might follow the revolution of July, as it had fol- 
 lowed that of '89. This name she enjoined it on 
 me to keep, and I have never thought prudent to 
 change it. I am of the family of de la Rocheai- 
 mard." 
 
 The exclamation which burst from the lips of 
 Betts Shoreham betokened both surprise and de- 
 light. He made Adrienne repeat her declara- 
 tions, and even desired her to explain her precise 
 parentage. The reader will remember that there 
 had been an American marriage in Adrienne's 
 family, and that every relative the poor girl had 
 on earth was among these distant connections on 
 this side of the Atlantic. One of these relatives. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 229 
 
 though it was no nearer than a third cousin, was 
 Betts Shoreham, whose great-grandmother had 
 been a bond fide ' de la Rocheaimard, and who was 
 enabled, at once, to point out to the poor deserted 
 orphan some forty or fifty persons who stood in 
 the same degree of affinity to her. It is needless 
 to say that this conversation was of absorbing 
 interest to both; so much so, indeed, that Betts 
 momentarily forgot his love, and by the time it 
 had ended Adrienne was disposed to overlook 
 most of her over-scrupulous objections to reward- 
 ing that very passion. But the hour admonished 
 them of the necessity of separating. 
 
 "And now, my beloved cousin," said Betts 
 Shoreham, as he rose to quit the room, seizing 
 Adrienne's unresisting hand — "now, my own 
 Adrienne, you will no longer urge your sublimated 
 notions of propriety against my suit. I am your 
 nearest male relative, and have a right to your 
 obedience — and I command that you be'' the 
 second de la Rocheaimard who became the wife 
 of a Shoreham." 
 
 "Tell me, mon cher cousin," said Adrienne, 
 smiling through her tears — "were your grand- 
 parents, my good uncle and aunt, were they 
 happy? Was their union blessed? " 
 
 "They were^ miracles of domestic felicity, and 
 
 ■ MS., " botiA fide " is an after-insertion. 
 
 2 MS., " become." 
 
 'MS., originally, "were the." 
 
230 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 their happiness has passed down in tradition 
 among all their descendants. Even religion could 
 not furnish them with a cause for misunderstand- 
 ing. That example, which they set to the last 
 century, we will endeavor to set to this." 
 
 Adrienne smiled, kissed her hand to Betts, and 
 ran out of the room, leaving me forgotten on the 
 sofa. Betts Shoreham seized his hat, and left the 
 house, a happy man; for, though he had no direct 
 promise as yet, he felt' as reasonably secure of 
 success as circumstances required. 
 
 ' MS., originally, " felt now." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 231 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Almost immediately after the departure of 
 Betts Shoreham, ' Tom Thurston entered, and 
 Julia Monson came down to receive him, her 
 pique not interfering, and it being rather stylish 
 to be disengaged on the morning of the day 
 when the household was in all the confusion of a 
 premeditated rout. 
 
 "This is so good of you. Miss Monson," said 
 Tom, as he made his bow — I heard it all, bemg 
 still on the sofa — "this is so good of you, when 
 your time must have so many demands on it." 
 
 "Not in the least, Mr. Thurston — mamma 
 and the housekeeper have settled everything, 
 and I am really pleased to see you, as you can 
 give me the history of the new play — " 
 
 "Ah! Miss Monson, my heart — my faculties — 
 my ideas — " Tom was getting bothered, and he 
 made a desperate effort to extricate himself — 
 " in short, my judgment is so confused and mo- 
 nopolized that I have no powers left to think or 
 speak of plays. In a word, I was not there." 
 
 ' As the MS. and Graham version were not in chapters, 
 this portion in them began as follows: "Five minutes 
 later Tom Thurston entered." 
 
232 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 "That explains it, then — and what has thus 
 confused your mind, Mr. Thurston?" 
 
 "The approach of this awful night. You will 
 be surrounded by a host of admirers, pouring into 
 your ears their admiration and love, and then 
 what shall I have to support me but that 'yes,' 
 with which you once raised me from the depths 
 of despair to an elevation' of happiness that was 
 high ' as the highest pinnacle of the caverns of 
 Kentucky, raising me from the depths of Chim- 
 borazo." 
 
 Tom meant to reverse this image, but love is 
 proverbially desperate in its figures of speech, 
 and any thing was better than appearing to hesi- 
 tate. Nevertheless, Miss Monson was too well 
 instructed, and had too much real taste, not to 
 feel surprise at all this extravagance of diction 
 and poetry. 
 
 " I am not certain, Mr. Thurston, that I rightly 
 understand you," she said. " Chimborazo is not 
 particularly low, nor are the caverns of Kentucky 
 so very strikingly elevated." 
 
 "Ascribe it all to that fatal, heart-thrilling, 
 hope-inspiring ' yes,' loveliest of human females," 
 continued Tom, kneeling with some caution, lest 
 the straps of his pantaloons should give way — 
 "Impute all to your own lucid ambiguity, and to 
 the torments of hope that I experience. Repeat 
 
 ' MS. , originally, this farrago read " to a pinnacle of hap- 
 piness that was highest." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 233 
 
 that 'yes,' lovely, consolatory, imaginative being, 
 and raise me from the thrill of depression to the 
 liveliest pulsations of all human acmes." 
 
 " Hang it," thought Tom, " if she stands that, 
 I shall presently be ashore. Genius, itself," can 
 invent nothing finer." 
 
 But, Julia did stand it. She admired Tom for 
 his exterior; but the admiration of no moderately 
 sensible woman could overlook rodomontade so 
 exceedingly desperate.^ It was trespassing too 
 boldly on the proprieties to utter such nonsense 
 to a gentlewoman, and Tom, who had got his 
 practice in a very low school, was doomed to dis- 
 cover that he had overreached himself. 
 
 " I am not certain I quite understand you, Mr. 
 Thurston," answered the half-irritated, half- 
 amused young lady; "your language is so very 
 extraordinary — your images so very" unusual — " 
 
 " Say, rather, that it is your own image, love- 
 liest incorporation of perceptible incarnations; " 
 interrupted Tom, determined to go for the whole, 
 and recalling some rare specimens of magazine 
 eloquence — " Talk not of images, obdurate maid, 
 when you are nothing but an image yourself." 
 
 "I! Mr. Thurston — and of what is it your 
 pleasure to accuse me of being the image? " 
 
 "O!* unutterable woe! — yes, inexorable girl, 
 
 ' Bentley omits " itself." 
 2 MS., originally, "palpable." 
 ^MS. only gives this "very." 
 ■•" O! " is not in the MS. 
 
234 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 your vacillating 'yes' has rendered me the im- 
 personation of that oppressive sentiment, of 
 which your beauty and excellence have become 
 the mocking reality. Alas! alas! that bearded 
 men," — Tom's face was covered with hair — 
 "Alas! alas! that bearded men should be 
 brought to weep over the contrarieties of wom- 
 anly caprice." 
 
 Here Tom bowed his head, and after a grunt- 
 ing sob or two, he raised his handkerchief in a 
 very pathetic manner to his face, and thought to 
 himself — " Well, if she stands that, the Lord only 
 knows what I shall say next." 
 
 As for Julia, she was amused, though, at first 
 she had been a little frightened. The girl had a 
 good deal of spirit, and she had tant soil pen of 
 mother Eve's love of mischief in her. She deter- 
 mined to " make capital " out of the affair, as the 
 Americans say in their ' shop-keeping slang. 
 
 "What is the 'yes,' of which you speak," she 
 inquired, " and on which you seem to lay so much 
 stress? " 
 
 " That ' yes ' has been my bane and antidote," 
 answered Tom, rallying for a new and still more 
 desperate charge. "When first pronounced by 
 your rubicund lips, it thrilled on my amazed 
 senses like a beacon of light — " 
 
 " Mr. Thurston- — Mr. Thurston — what do you 
 mean? " 
 
 ' " their " is in the MS. only. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 235 
 
 "Ah, d — n it," thought Tom, "I should have 
 said 'humid light ' — how the deuce did I come to 
 forget that word — it would have rounded the sen- 
 tence beautifully." 
 
 "What do I mean, angel of 'humid light?'" 
 answered Tom, aloud; " I mean all I say, and 
 lots of feeling besides. When the heart is an- 
 guished with unutterable emotion, it speaks in 
 accents that deaden all the nerves, and thrill the 
 ears." Tom was getting to be animated, and 
 when that was the case, his ideas followed like a 
 torrent after a thunder-shower, or in volumes, and 
 a little muddily. "What do I mean, indeed; I 
 mean to have j/«7«," he thought, "and, at least, 
 eighty thousand dollars, or dictionaries, Webster's 
 inclusive, were made in vain." 
 
 "This is very extraordinary, Mr. Thurston," 
 rejoined Julia, whose sense of womanly propriety 
 began to take the alarm; "and I must insist on 
 an explanation. Your language would seem to 
 infer — really, I do not know what it does not 
 seem to infer. Will you have the goodness to 
 explain what you mean by that 'yes? ' " 
 
 " Simply, loveliest and most benign of your 
 sex, that once already, in answer to a demand of 
 your hand, you deigned to reply' with that ener- 
 getic and encouraging monosyllable, yes — dear 
 and categorical affirmative — " exclaimed Tom, 
 going off again at half-cock, highly impressed 
 
 ' MS., " answer." 
 
236 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 with the notion that rhapsody, instead of music, 
 was the food of love — "Yes, dear and categor- 
 ical affirmative, with what ecstasy did not my 
 drowsy ears drink in the melodious sounds — what 
 extravagance of delight my throbbing heart echo 
 its notes, on the wings of the unseen winds — 
 in short, what considerable satisfaction your con- 
 sent gave my pulsating mind! " 
 
 "Consent! — Consent is a strong word, Mr. 
 Thurston! " 
 
 " It is, indeed, adorable Julia, and it is also a 
 strong thing. I've known terrible consequences 
 arise from the denial of a consent, not half as ex- 
 plicit as your own." 
 
 "Consequences! — may I ask, sir, to what con- 
 sequences you allude? " 
 
 "The consequences. Miss Monson — that is, the 
 consequences of a violated troth, I mean — they 
 may be divided into three parts " — here, Tom got 
 up, brushed his knees, each in succession, with 
 his pocket-handkerchief, and began to count on 
 his fingers, like a lawyer who is summing up an 
 argument — " Yes, Miss Julia, into three parts. 
 First come the pangs of unrequited love; on these 
 I propose to enlarge presently. Next come the 
 legal effects, always supposing that the wronged 
 party can summon heart enough to carry on a 
 suit, with bruised affections — " "Hang it," thought 
 Tom, " why did I not think of that word 'bruised ' 
 while on my knees; it would tell like a stiletto — " 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 237 
 
 " Yes, Miss Julia, if ' bruised affections ' would 
 permit the soul to descend to such preliminaries. 
 The last consequence is, the despair of hope de- 
 ferred." 
 
 " All this is so extraordinary, Mr. Thurston, 
 that I insist on knowing why you have presumed 
 to address such language to me — yes, sir, insist 
 on knowing your reason." 
 
 Tom was dumbfounded. Now, that he was up, 
 and looking about him, he had an opportunity of 
 perceiving that his mistress was offended, and 
 that he had somewhat overdone the sublime, 
 poetical, and affecting. With a sudden revulsion 
 of feeling and tactics, he determined to throw 
 himself, at once, into the penitent and candid. 
 
 "Ah, Miss Monson," he cried, somewhat more 
 naturally — "I see I have offended and alarmed 
 you. But, impute it all to love. The strength 
 of my passion is such, that I became desperate, 
 and was resolved to try any expedient that I 
 thought might lead to success." 
 
 " That might be pardoned, sir, were it not for 
 the extraordinary character of the expedient. 
 Surely, you have never seen in me any taste for 
 the very extraordinary images and figures of 
 speech you have used on this occasion." 
 
 "This handkerchief," — said Tom, taking me 
 from the sofa — "this handkerchief must bear all 
 the blame. But for this, I should not have 
 dreamt of running so much on the high-pressure 
 
238 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 principle; but love, you know, Miss Julia, is a 
 calculation, like any other great event of life, 
 and must be carried on consistently." 
 
 " And, pray, sir, how can that handkerchief 
 have brought about' any such result?" 
 
 " Ah ! Miss Monson, you ask me to use a most 
 killing frankness! Had we not better remain 
 under the influence of the poetical star? " 
 
 " If you wish to ensure my respect, or esteem, 
 Mr. Thurston, it is necessary to deal with me in 
 perfect sincerity. Nothing but truth will ever be 
 pleasing to me." 
 
 " Hang it," thought Tom, again, "who knows? 
 She is whimsical, and may really like to have the 
 truth. It's quite clear her heart is as insensible 
 to eloquence and poetry, as a Potter's Field wall, 
 and it might answer to try her with a little truth. 
 Your S8o,ooo girls get such notions in their heads, 
 that there's no analogy, as one might say, be- 
 tween them and the rest of the species. Miss 
 Julia," continuing aloud, " my nature is all plain- 
 dealing, and I am delighted to find a congenial 
 spirit. You must have observed something very 
 peculiar in my language, at the commencement 
 of this exceedingly interesting dialogue? " 
 
 " I will not deny it, Mr. Thurston; your lan- 
 guage was, to say the least, very peculiar." 
 
 " Lucid, but ambiguous; pathetic, but amusing; 
 poetical, but comprehensive; prosaical, but full 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley omit "about." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 239 
 
 of emphasis. That's my nature. Plain-dealing, 
 too, is my nature, and I adore the same quality 
 in others; most especially in those I could wish 
 to marry." 
 
 " Does this wish, then, extend to the plural 
 number? " asked Julia, smiling a little maliciously. 
 
 " Certainly; when the heart is devoted to vir- 
 tuous intentions, it wishes for a union with virtue, 
 wherever it is to be found. Competence and 
 virtue are my mottoes. Miss Julia." 
 
 " This shows that you are, in truth, a lover of 
 plain-dealing, Mr Thurston — and now, as to the 
 handkerchief? " 
 
 "Why, Miss Julia, perceiving that you are 
 sincere, I shall be equally frank. You own this 
 handkerchief? " 
 
 " Certainly, sir, I should hardly use an article 
 of dress that is the property of another." 
 
 " Independent, and the fruit of independence. 
 Well, Miss Monson, it struck me that the mistress 
 of such a handkerchief must like poetry — that is, 
 flights of the imagination — that is, eloquence 
 and pathos, as it might be engrafted on passion 
 and sentiment." 
 
 " I believe I understand you, sir; you wish to 
 say that common sense seemed misapplied to the 
 owner of such a handkerchief." 
 
 "Far from that, adorable young lady; but, 
 that poetry, and eloquence, and flights of imagi- 
 nation, seem well applied. A very simple calcu- 
 
240 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 lation will demonstrate what I mean. But, pos- 
 sibly, you do not wish to hear the calculation — 
 ladies, generally, dislike figures?" 
 
 " I am an exception, Mr. Thurston; I beg you 
 will lay the whole matter before me, therefore, 
 without reserve." 
 
 "It is simply this, ma'am. This handkerchief 
 cost every cent of $100 — " 
 
 " One hundred and twenty-five," ' said Julia, 
 quickly. 
 
 "Bless me," thought Tom, "what a rich old 
 
 d 1 her father must be ! I will not give her up; 
 
 and as poetry and sentiment do not seem to be 
 favorites, here goes for frankness — some women 
 are furious for plain matter-of-fact fellows, and 
 this must be one of the number. One hundred 
 and twenty-five dollars is a great deal of money," 
 he added, aloud, "and the interest, at 7 per cent, 
 will come to Si. 75. Including first cost and 
 washing, the annual expense of this handkerchief 
 may be set down at $2. But, the thing will not 
 last now, five years, if one includes fashion, wear 
 and tear, &c., and this will bring the whole ex- 
 pense up to $27 per annum. We will suppose 
 your fortune to be 850,000, Miss Julia — " 
 
 Here Tom paused, and cast a curious glance at 
 the young lady, in the hope of hearing something 
 explicit. Julia could hardly keep her counte- 
 
 nt cost $100; query: Does the fair Julia desire a profit 
 also? 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 241 
 
 nance, but she was resolved to go to the bottom 
 of all this plain-dealing. 
 
 "Well, sir," she answered, " we will suppose it, 
 as you say, ^50,000." 
 
 "The interest, then, would be, 1^3,500. Now 
 27 multiplied by 130 — " here Tom took out his 
 pencil, and began to cipher — "make just 3,510, 
 or rather more than the whole amount of the 
 interest. Well, when you come to deduct taxes, 
 charges, losses and other things, the best invested 
 estate of ^3,500 per annum, will not yield more 
 than $3,000 nett. Suppose a marriage, and the 
 husband has only $ 1,000 for his pocket, this 
 would bring down the ways and means to $2,000 
 per annum; or less than a hundredth part of the 
 expense of keeping one pocket-handkerchief; and 
 when you come to include rent, fuel, marketing, 
 and other necessaries, you see, my dear Miss 
 Monson, there is a great deal of poetry in paying 
 so much for a pocket-handkerchief." 
 
 " I believe I understand you, sir, and shall 
 endeavor to profit by the lesson. As I am 
 wanted, you will now excuse me, Mr. Thurston — 
 my father's step is in the hall — " so Julia, in 
 common with all other Manhattanese, called a 
 passage, or entry, five feet wide — " and to him I 
 must refer you." 
 
 This was said merely as an excuse for quitting 
 the room. But Tom received it literally and fig- 
 uratively, at the same time. 
 
242 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Accustomed to think of marrying as his means 
 of advancement, Tom Thurston ' somewhat rea- 
 sonably supposed "refer you to my father" 
 meant consent, so far as the young lady was con- 
 cerned, and he determined to improve the 
 precious moments. Fortunately for his ideas, 
 Mr. Monson did not enter the room immediately, 
 which allowed the gentleman an opportunity for 
 a little deliberation. As usual, his thoughts took 
 the direction of a mental soliloquy, much in the 
 following form: 
 
 " This is getting on famously," thought Tom. 
 " Refer you to my father — well, that is compact 
 and comprehensive at the same time. I wish her 
 dandruff had got up when I mentioned only 
 ^50,000. Seriously, that is but a small sum to 
 make one's way on. If I had a footing of my 
 own, in society, 850,000 might do; but when a 
 fellow has to work his way by means of dinners, 
 horses, and et ceteras, it's a small allowance. It's 
 true, the Monsons will give me connections, and 
 connections are almost — not quite — as good as 
 money to get a chap along with, — but, the d 1 
 
 'MS. and Graham, "he," which was appropriate in an 
 unchaptered narrative. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 
 
 243 
 
 of the matter is, that connections eat and drink. 
 I dare say the Monson set will cost me a good 
 ^500 a year, though they will save something in 
 the way of the feed they must give in their turns. 
 I wish I had tried her with a higher figure, for, 
 after all, it may have been only modesty — some 
 
 women are as modest as the d 1. But here 
 
 comes old Monson, and I must strike while the 
 iron is hot." 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Thurston," said the father, 
 looking a little surprised at seeing such a guest 
 at three ' o'clock. "What, alone with my daugh- 
 ter's fine pocket-handkerchief? You must find 
 that indifferent company." 
 
 " Not under the circumstances, sir. Every- 
 thing is agreeable to us that belongs to an object 
 we love." 
 
 " Love! That is a strong term, Mr. Thurston 
 — one that I hope you have uttered in pure gal- 
 lantry." 
 
 " Not at all, sir," cried Tom, falling on his 
 knees, as a school-boy reads the wrong para- 
 graph in the confusion of not having studied his 
 lesson well — "adorable and angelic — I beg your 
 pardon, Mr. Monson," — rising and again brushing 
 his knees with some care — " my mind is in such 
 a state of confusion, that I scarcely know what I 
 say." 
 
 'MS. is plainly "three," which seemingly cannot be the 
 right hour. 
 
244 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 " Really, I should think so, or you could never 
 mistake me for a young girl of twenty. Will you 
 have the goodness to explain this matter to me? " 
 
 "Yes, sir — I'm referred." 
 
 " Referred? Pray, what may that mean in par- 
 ticular? " 
 
 " Only, sir, that I am referred — I do not ask a 
 dollar, sir. Her lovely mind and amiable person 
 are all I seek, and I only regret that she is so 
 rich. I should be the happiest fellow in the 
 world, Mr. Monson, if the angelic Julia had not 
 a cent." 
 
 " The angelic Julia must be infinitely indebted 
 to you, Mr. Thurston; but let us take up this affair 
 in order. What am I to understand, sir, by your 
 being referred? " 
 
 " That Miss Julia, in answer to my suit, has 
 referred me to you, sir." 
 
 "Then, so far as she herself is concerned, you 
 wish me to understand that she accepts you? " 
 
 "Certainly — she accepted, some time since, 
 with as heavenly a ' yes ' as ever came from the 
 ruby lips of love." 
 
 " Indeed! This is so new to me, sir, that you 
 must permit me to see my daughter a moment 
 ere I give a definite answer." 
 
 Hereupon Mr. Monson left the room, and Tom 
 began to think again. 
 
 "Well," he thought, "things do go on swim- 
 mingly at last. This is the first time I could ever 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 345 
 
 get at a father, though I've offered to six-and- 
 twenty girls. One does something like a living 
 business with a father. I don't know but I rather 
 overdid it about the dollar, though it's according 
 to rule to seem disinterested at first, even if you 
 quarrel like furies, afterwards, about the stuff. Let 
 me see — had I best begin to screw him up in 
 this interview, or wait for the next? A few hints, 
 properly thrown out, may be useful at once. 
 Some of these old misers hold on to everything 
 till they die, fancying it a mighty pleasant matter 
 to chaps that can't support themselves ' to sup- 
 port their daughters by industry, as they call it. 
 I'm as industrious as a young fellow can be, and 
 I owe six month's board at this very moment. 
 No — no — I'll walk into him at once, and give 
 him what Napoleon. used to call a demonstration." 
 
 The door opened, and Mr. Monson entered, his 
 face a little flushed, and his eye a little severe. 
 Still he was calm in tone and manner. Julia had 
 told him all in ten words. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Thurston, I believe I understand 
 this matter," said the father, in a very business- 
 like manner; " you wish to marry my daughter? " 
 
 "Exactly, sir; and she wishes to marry me — 
 that is, as far as comports with the delicacy of 
 the female bosom." 
 
 " A very timely reservation. And you are re- 
 ferred? " 
 
 ' MS., originally, " a chap that can't support himself." 
 
246 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Monson, those cheering words have 
 solaced my ears — I am referred. The old chap," 
 aside, " likes a little humbug as well as a girl." 
 
 " And you will take her without a cent, you say?" 
 
 " Did I, sir? I believe I didn't exactly say 
 that — Dollar was the word I mentioned. Cents 
 could hardly be named between you and me." 
 
 " Dollar let it be, then. Now, sir, you have 
 my consent on a single condition." 
 
 " Name it, sir. Name five or six, at once, my 
 dear Mr. Monson, and you shall see how / will 
 comply." 
 
 "One will answer. How much fortune do you 
 think will be necessary to make such a couple 
 happy at starting in the world? Name such a 
 sum as will comport with your own ideas." 
 
 " How much, sir? Mr. Monson, you are a 
 model of generosity! You mean, to keep a liberal 
 and gentlemanly establishment, as would become 
 your son-in-law? " 
 
 " I do — such a fortune as will make you both 
 easy and comfortable." 
 
 " Horses and carriages, of course? Everything 
 on a genteel and liberal scale? " 
 
 " On such a scale as will insure the happiness 
 of man and wife." 
 
 "Mutual esteem — conjugal felicity — and all 
 that. I suppose you include dinners, sir, and a 
 manly competition with one's fellow citizens, in 
 real New York form? " 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 247 
 
 " I mean all that can properly belong to the 
 expenses of a gentleman and lady." 
 
 "Yes, sir — exceedingly liberal — liberal as the 
 rosy dawn. Why, sir, meeting your proposition 
 in the spirit in which it is offered, I should say 
 Julia and I could get along very comfortably on 
 $100,000. Yes, we could make that do, provided 
 the money were well invested — no fancy stocks." 
 
 " Well, sir, I am glad we understand each other 
 so clearly. If my daughter really wish to 
 marry you, I will give $50,000 of this sum, as 
 soon as you can show me that you have as much 
 more to invest along with it." 
 
 "Sir — Mr. Monson!" 
 
 " I mean that each party shall lay down dollar 
 for dollar." 
 
 " I understand what you mean, sir. Mr. Mon- 
 son, that would be degrading lawful wedlock to 
 the level of a bet — a game of cards — a mer- 
 cenary, contemptible bargain. No, sir — nothing 
 shall ever induce me to degrade this honorable 
 estate to such pitiful conditions! " 
 
 " Dollar for dollar, Mr. Thurston! " 
 
 " Holy wedlock! It is violating the best prin- 
 ciples of our nature." 
 
 " Give and take! " 
 
 " Leveling the sacred condition of matrimony 
 to thit of a mere bargain for a horse or a dog! " 
 
 " Half and half! " 
 
 "My nature revolts at such profanation, sir — 
 
248 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 I will take ^75,000 with Miss Julia, and say no 
 more about it." 
 
 " Equality is the foundation of wedded happi- 
 ness, Mr. Thurston." 
 
 "Say ^50,000, Mr. Monson, and have no more 
 words about it. Take away from the transaction 
 the character of a bargain, and even $40,000 
 will do." 
 
 " Not a cent that is not covered by a cent of 
 your own." 
 
 "Then, sir, I wash my hands of the whole 
 affair. If the young lady should die, my con- 
 science will be clear. It shall never be said 
 Thomas Thurston was so lost to himself as to 
 bargain for a wife." 
 
 "We must, then, part, sir,' and the negotiation 
 must fall through." 
 
 Tom rose with dignity, and got as far as the 
 door. With his hand on the latch, he added — 
 
 " Rather than blight the prospects of so pure 
 and lovely a creature I will make every sacrifice 
 short of honor — let it be 830,000, Mr. Monson? " 
 
 "As you please; sir — so that it be covered by 
 ;g30,ooo of your own." 
 
 " My nature revolts at the proposition, and so 
 — good morning, sir." 
 
 Tom left the house, and Mr. Monson laughed 
 heartily; so heartily, indeed, as to prove how 
 much he relished the success of his scheme. 
 
 ' " sir " is in MS. only. 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 249 
 
 " Talk of Scylla and Charybdis! " soliloquized 
 the discomfited Tom, as he wiped the perspira- 
 tion from his face — " Where the d 1 does he 
 
 think I am to find the $50,000 he wants, unless 
 he first gives them to me? I never heard of so 
 unreasonable an old chap! Here is a young fel- 
 low that offers to marry his daughter for $30,000 
 — half price, as one may say — and he talks about 
 covering every cent he lays down with one of my 
 own. I never knew what was meant by cent, per 
 cent, before. Let me see; I've just thirty-two 
 dollars and sixty-nine cents, and had we played 
 at a game of coppers I couldn't have held out 
 half an hour. But, I flatter myself, I touched 
 the old scamp up with morals, in away he wasn't 
 used to. Well, as this thing is over, I will now ' 
 try old Sweet, the grocer's daughter. If the 
 wardrobe and whiskers fail there, I must^ rub up 
 the Greek and Latin, and shift the ground to 
 Boston. They say a chap with a little of the 
 classics can get $30,000 or $40,000, there, any 
 day in the week. I wish my parents had brought 
 me up a schoolmaster; I would be off in the first 
 boat. Blast it! — I thought when I came down 
 to $30,000, he would have snapped at the bait, 
 like a pike. He'll never have a chance to get 
 her off so cheap, again." 
 
 ' " now " is in MS. only. 
 
 2 MS., originally, after "must," Mr. Cooper started to 
 write " go to Boston." 
 
250 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 This ended the passage of flirtation ' between 
 Thomas Thurston and Julia Monson. As for the 
 latter, she took such a distaste for me, that she 
 presented me to Mademoiselle Hennequin, at the 
 first opportunity, under the pretense she had 
 discovered a strong wish in the latter to possess 
 me. 
 
 Adrienne accepted the present with some re- 
 luctance, on account of the price that had been 
 paid for me, and yet with strong emotion. How 
 she wept over me, the first time we were alone 
 together! I thought her heart would break; nor 
 am I certain it would not, but for the timely in- 
 terposition of Julia, who came and set her laugh- 
 ing by a humorous narrative of what had occurred 
 between her father and her lover. 
 
 That night the rout took place. It went off 
 with eclat, but I did not make my appearance at 
 it, Adrienne rightly judging that I was not a 
 proper companion for one in her situation. It is 
 true, this is not a very American notion, every 
 thing being suitable for every body, that gets 
 them, in this land of liberty; but Adrienne had 
 not been educated in a land of liberty, and fan- 
 cied that her dress should bear some relation to 
 her means. Little did she know that I was a 
 sort of patent of nobility, and that by exhibiting 
 me, she might have excited envy, even in an al- 
 derman's daughter. My non-appearance, how- 
 
 'MS., originally, "gallantry." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 251 
 
 ever, made no difference with Betts Siioreham, 
 whose attentions, throughout the evening, were 
 so marked as to raise suspicion of the truth in 
 the mind of even Mrs. Monson. 
 
 The next day there was an ^claircissement. 
 Adrienne owned who she was, gave my history, 
 acquainted Mrs. Monson with her connection 
 with Mr. Shoreham, and confessed the nature of 
 his suit. I was present at this interview, and it 
 would be unjust to say that the mother was not 
 disappointed. Still she behaved generously, and 
 like a high principled woman. Adrienne was 
 advised to accept Betts, and her scruples, on the 
 score of money, were gradually removed, by Mrs. 
 Monson's arguments. 
 
 " What a contrast do this Mr. Thurston and 
 Adrienne present! " observed Mrs. Monson to her 
 husband, in a tete-d-tite, shortly after this inter- 
 view. " Here is the gentleman wanting to get 
 our child, without a shilling to bless himself with; 
 and the poor girl refusing to marry the man of 
 her heart, because she is penniless." 
 
 "So much for education. We become mer- 
 cenary or self-denying, very much as we are 
 instructed. In this country, it must be confessed, 
 fortune-hunting has made giant strides, within 
 the last few years, and that, too, with an audacity 
 of pretension that is unrestrained by any of the 
 social barriers which exist elsewhere." 
 
 "Adrienne will marry Mr. Shoreham, I think. 
 
252 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 She loves; and when a girl loves, her scruples of 
 this nature are not invincible." 
 
 " Ay, he can lay down dollar for dollar — I wish 
 his fancy had run toward Julia." 
 
 " It has not, and we can only regret it. 
 Adrienne has half-consented, and I shall give her 
 a handsome wedding — for, married she must be 
 in our house." 
 
 All came to pass as was predicted. One month 
 from that day, Betts Shoreham and Adrienne de 
 la Rocheaimard became man and wife. Mrs. 
 Monson gave a handsome entertainment, and a 
 day or two later, the bridegroom and bride took 
 possession of their proper home. Of course I 
 removed with the rest of the family, and, by 
 these means, had an opportunity of becoming a 
 near spectator of a honey-moon. I ought, how- 
 ever, to say, that Betts insisted on Julia's receiv- 
 ing ^125 for me, accepting from Julia a handsome 
 wedding present of equal value, but in another 
 form. This was done simply that Adrienne 
 might say when I was exhibited, that she had 
 worked me herself, and that the lace with which 
 I was embellished was an heir-loom. If there 
 are various ways of quieting one's conscience, in 
 the way of marriage settlements, so are there 
 various modes of appeasing our sense of pride. 
 
 Pocket-handkerchiefs have their revolutions, as 
 well as states. I was now under my first resto- 
 ration, and perfectly happy; but, being French, I 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 253 
 
 look forward to further changes, since the tem- 
 perament that has twice ejected the Bourbons 
 from their thrones will scarce leave me in quiet 
 possession of mine forever. 
 
 Adrienne loves ' Betts more than anything else. 
 Still she loves me dearly. Scarce a week passes 
 that I am not in her hands; and it is when her 
 present happiness seems to be overflowing, that 
 she is most fond of recalling the painful hours 
 she experienced in making me what I am. Then 
 her tears flow freely, and often I am held in her 
 soft little hand, while she prays for the soul of 
 her grandmother, or offers up praises for her own 
 existing blessings. I am no longer thought of 
 for balls and routs, but appear to be doomed to 
 the closet, and those moments of tender confi- 
 dence that so often occur between these lovers. 
 I complain not. So far from it, never was an 
 "article" of my character more highly favored; 
 passing an existence, as it might be, in the very 
 bosom of truth and innocence. Once only have 
 I seen an old acquaintance, in the person of Clara 
 Caverly, since my change of mistress — the idea 
 of calling a de la Rocheaimard, a boss, or bossess, 
 is out of the question. Clara is a distant relative 
 of Betts, and soon became intimate with her new 
 cousin. One day she saw me lying on a table, 
 and, after an examination, she exclaimed — 
 
 " Two things surprise me greatly here, Mrs. 
 
 'MS., originally, " clearly loves." 
 
254 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 Shoreham — that you should own one of these 
 tJmigs" — I confess I did not like the word — 
 " and that you should ' own this particular hand- 
 kerchief." 
 
 "Why so, chfere Clara?" — how prettily my 
 mistress pronounces that name; so different from 
 Clarryf 
 
 " It is not like you to purchase so extravagant 
 and useless a thing — and then this looks like a 
 handkerchief that once belonged to another per- 
 son — a poor girl who has lost her means of 
 extravagance by the change of the times. But, 
 of course, it is only a resemblance, a.s you — " 
 
 " It is more, Clara — the handkerchief is the 
 same. But that handkerchief is not an article of 
 dress with me; it is my friend!" 
 
 The reader may imagine how proud I felt! 
 This was elevation for the species, and gave a 
 dignity to my position, with which I am infinitely 
 satisfied. Nevertheless, Miss Caverly manifested 
 surprise. 
 
 " I will explain," continued Mrs. Shoreham. 
 "The handkerchief is my own work, and is very 
 precious to me, on account of des souvenirs." 
 
 Adrienne then told the whole story, and I may 
 say Clara Caverly became my friend also. Yes, 
 she, who had formerly regarded me with indif- 
 ference, or dislike, now kissed me, and wept over 
 
 ' Bro. J. and Bentley, "would." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 255 
 
 me, and in this manner have I since passed from 
 friend to friend, among all of Adrienne's intimates. 
 
 Not so with the world, however. My sudden 
 disappearance from it excited quite as much 
 sensation as my d^but in it. Tom Thurston's 
 addresses to Miss Monson had excited the envy, 
 and, of course, the attention of all the other 
 fortune-hunters in town, causing his sudden retreat 
 to be noticed. Persons of this class are cele- 
 brated ' for covering their retreats skilfully. Tom 
 declared that "the old chap broke down when 
 they got as far as the fortune — that, as he liked 
 the girl, he would have taken her with 1^75,000, 
 but the highest offer he could get from him was 
 $30,000. This, of course, no gentleman could 
 submit to. A girl with such a pocket-handker- 
 chief ought '10 bring a clean^ $100,000, and I was 
 for none of your half-way doings. Old Monson 
 is a humbug The handkerchief has disappeared, 
 and, now they have taken down the sign, I hope 
 they will do business on a more reasonable scale." 
 
 A month later, Tom got married. I heard 
 John Monson laughing over the particulars, one 
 day, in Betts Shoreham's library, where I am ' 
 usually kept, to my great delight, being exceed- 
 ingly fond of books. The facts were as follows: 
 It seems Tom had cast an eye on the daughter of 
 
 ' MS., " This class (of persons) is celebrated." 
 ' Printed versions, "clear." 
 ^ MS., originally, "was." 
 
256 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 a grocer of reputed wealth, who had attracted the 
 attention of another person of his own school. 
 To get rid of a competitor, this person pointed 
 out to Tom a girl, whose father had been a 
 butcher, but had just retired from business, and 
 was building himself a fine house somewhere in 
 Butcherland. 
 
 " That's your girl," said the treacherous adviser. 
 "All butchers are rich, and they never build until 
 their pockets are so crammed as to force them to 
 it. They coin money and spend nothing. Look 
 how high beef has been of late years; and then 
 they live on the smell of their own meats. This 
 is your girl. Only court the old fellow, and you 
 are sure of half a million in the long run." 
 
 Tom was off on the instant. He did court the 
 old fellow; got introduced to the family; was a 
 favorite from the first; offered in a fortnight, was 
 accepted, and got married within the month. Ten 
 days afterward, the supplies were' stopped for 
 want of funds, and the butcher failed. It seems 
 he, too, was only taking a hand in the great game 
 of brag that most of the country had sat down to. 
 
 Tom was in a dilemma. He had married a 
 butcher's daughter. After this, every door in 
 Broadway and Bond street was shut upon him. 
 Instead of stepping into society on his wife's 
 shoulders, he was dragged out of it by the skirts, 
 through her agency. Then there was not a dol- 
 
 'MS., instead of " supplies were " is "house was." 
 
A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 257 
 
 lar. His empty pockets were balanced by her 
 empty pockets. The future offered a sad per- 
 spective. Tom consulted a lawyer about a 
 divorce, on the ground of "false pretenses." He 
 was even ready to make an affidavit that he had 
 been slaughtered. But it would not do. The 
 marriage was found to stand all the usual tests; 
 and Tom went to Texas. 
 
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