A BARGAIN.
I AM not much of a bargain-buyer, having had, like most
housekeepers, sufficient experience on that subject to effect a
pretty thorough cure of the disease, mild as it was in the
beginning. As all diseases, whether bodily or mental, leave behind
them a predisposition to return, I have, from time to time, been
subjected to slight paroxisms of the old complaint. From the effects
of my last rather mild attack, I am now recovering.
I was passing along Walnut street, on my way to drop a letter in the
Post Office, one morning, about ten o'clock, when the ringing of an
auctioneer's bell came suddenly on my ears. Lifting my eyes, I saw
the flag of Thomas & Son displayed before me, and read the words,
"Auction this morning."
Here was an "exciting cause," as the doctors say, and, instantly I
felt a movement of the old affection. Two or three ladies happened
to be entering the store at the time, and the sudden inclination to
follow them was so strong that I did not attempt its resistance. It
was not my intention, to buy any thing, of course; for I was
conscious of no particular want. I only just wished, if any wish
were really full formed, to see what was to be sold.
Scarcely had I entered the door, when a sofa, so nearly new that it
hardly bore a mark of having been used, presented itself, and
captivated my fancy. The one that graced our parlor had grown
somewhat out of fashion. It was in good keeping, but rather plain in
style: and, as we had recently treated ourselves to handsome new
carpets, did not appear to quite so good advantage as before. This
one, to be sold at auction, was made after a newer pattern, and, as
my eyes continued to rest upon it, the desires to have it in my
parlor was fully formed.
I have said, that on entering the auction store, I was unconscious
of any particular want. This was true, notwithstanding Mr. Smith and
I had, a few days before, called at a cabinet maker's wareroom, to
look at a sofa. In consequence of former experience in cheap
furniture, we had no thought of getting a low-priced article from a
second or third rate establishment; but designed, when we did
purchase, to act wisely and get the best. We had been looking at a
sofa for which sixty-five dollars was asked; and were hesitating
between that and another upon which fifty dollars was set as the
price.
It was but natural, under these circumstances, that I should, look
upon this sofa with more than ordinary interest. A glance told me
that it was an article of superior make, and a close examination
fully confirmed this impression.
A few minutes after my entrance, the sale begun, and it so happened
that the sofa came first on the list.
"We shall begin this morning," said the auctioneer, "with a superior,
fashionable sofa, made by--. It has only been in use a short time,
and is, in every respect, equal to new."
All my predilections in favor of the sofa were confirmed the moment
the manufacturer's name was announced. Of course, it was of the best
material and workmanship.
"What is bid for this superior sofa, made by--," went on the
salesman,--"Seventy dollars--sixty-five--sixty-fifty--five-fifty--
forty-five--forty--thirty-five--thirty."
"Twenty-five dollars," said a timid voice.
"Twenty-five! Twenty-five!" cried the auctioneer.
"Twenty-six," said I.
The first bidder advanced a dollar on this; then I bid twenty-eight;
he went up to twenty-nine, and I made it thirty, at which offer the
sofa was knocked down to me.
"That's a bargain, and no mistake," said the salesman. "It is worth
fifty dollars, if it's worth a cent."
"I'll give you five dollars advance," proposed a lady by my side,
who had desired to bid, but could not bring up her courage to the
point.
"No, thank you," was my prompt answer. I was too well pleased with
my bargain.
When Mr. Smith came home to dinner on that day, I met him in the
parlor.
"What do you think of this?" said I, pointing to the new sofa. I
spoke in an exultant voice.
"Where in the world did it come from?" enquired Mr. Smith, evincing
a natural surprise.
"I bought it," was my reply.
"When? where?"
"This morning, at auction."
"At auction!"
"Yes; and it's a bargain. Now guess what I gave for it?"
"Ten dollars?"
"Now Mr. Smith! But come; be serious. Isn't it cheap at forty
dollars?"
Mr. Smith examined the sofa with care, and then gave it as his
opinion that it wasn't dear at forty dollars.
"I got it for thirty," said I.
"Indeed! I should really call that a bargain,--provided you don't
discover in it, after a while, some defect."
"I've looked at every part, over and over again," was my response to
this, "and can find a defect nowhere. None exists, I am satisfied."
"Time will show," remarked Mr. Smith.
There was the smallest perceptible doubt in his tone.
Next morning, on going into my parlors, I was a little worried to
see two or three moths flying about the room. They were despatched
with commendable quickness. On the morning that followed, the same
thing occurred again; and this was repeated, morning after morning.
Moreover, in a few days, these insects, so dreaded by housekeepers,
showed themselves in the chambers above. Up to this time I had
neglected to put away my furs, a new set of which had been purchased
during the previous winter. I delayed this no longer.
House-cleaning time had now arrived. My new carpets were taken up
and packed away, to give place to the cooler matting. Our winter
clothing also received attention, and was deposited in chests and
closets for the summer, duly provided with all needful protection
from moths. After this came the calm of rest and self-satisfaction.
One day, about the middle of July, a lady friend called in to see
me.
"That's a neat sofa, Mrs. Smith," said she, in the pause of a
conversation.
"I think it very neat," was my answer.
"It's made from the same pattern with one that I had. One that I
always liked, and from which I was sorry to part."
"You sold it?" said I.
"Yes. I sent it to auction."
"Ah! Why so?"
"I discovered, this spring, that the moth had got into it."
"Indeed!"
"Yes. They showed themselves, every day, in such numbers, in my
parlors, that I became alarmed for my carpets. I soon traced their
origin to the sofa, which was immediately packed off to auction. I
was sorry to part with it; but, there was no other effective
remedy."
"You lost on the sale, I presume," I ventured to remark.
"Yes; that was to be expected. It cost sixty dollars, and brought
only thirty. But this loss was to be preferred to the destruction
such an army of moth as it was sending forth, would have
occasioned."
I changed the subject, dexterously, having heard quite enough about
the sofa to satisfy me that my bargain was likely to prove a bad
one.
All the summer, I was troubled with visions of moth-eaten carpets,
furs, shawls, and overcoats; and they proved to be only the
foreshadowing of real things to come, for, when, in the fall, the
contents of old chests, boxes, drawers, and dark closets were
brought forth to the light, a state of affairs truly frightful to a
housekeeper, was presented. One of the breadths of my handsome
carpet had the pile so eaten off in conspicuous places, that no
remedy was left but the purchase and substitution of a new one, at a
cost of nearly ten dollars. In dozens of places the texture of the
carpet was eaten entirely through. I was, as my lady readers may
naturally suppose, very unhappy at this. But, the evil by no means
found a limit here. On opening my fur boxes, I found that the work
of destruction had been going on there also. A single shake of the
muff, threw little fibres and flakes of fur in no stinted measure
upon the air; and, on dashing my hand hard against it, a larger mass
was detached, showing the skin bare and white beneath. My furs were
ruined. They had cost seventy dollars, and were not worth ten!
A still further examination into our stock of winter clothing,
showed that the work of destruction had extended to almost every
article. Scarcely any thing had escaped.
Troubled, worried, and unhappy as I was, I yet concealed from Mr.
Smith the origin of all this ruin. He never suspected our cheap sofa
for a moment. After I had, by slow degrees, recovered from my
chagrin and disappointment, my thoughts turned, naturally, upon a
disposition of the sofa. What was to be done with it? As to keeping
it over another season, that was not to be thought of for a moment.
But, would it be right, I asked myself, to send it back to auctions
and let it thus go into the possession of some housekeeper, as
ignorant of its real character as I had been? I found it very hard
to reconcile my conscience to such a disposition of the sofa. And
there was still another difficulty in the way. What excuse for
parting with it could I make to Mr. Smith? He had never suspected
that article to be the origination of all the mischief and loss we
had sustained.
Winter began drawing to a close, and still the sofa remained in its
place, and still was I in perplexity as to what should be done with
it.
"Business requires me to go to Charleston," said Mr. Smith, one day
late in February.
"How long will you be away?" was my natural enquiry.
"From ten days to two weeks," replied Mr. Smith.
"So long as that?"
"It will hardly be possible to get home earlier than the time I have
mentioned."
"You go in the Osprey?"
"Yes. She sails day after to-morrow. So you will have all ready for
me, if you please."
Never before had the announcement of my husband that he had to go
away on business given me pleasure. The moment he said that he would
be absent, the remedy for my difficulty suggested itself.
The very day Mr. Smith sailed in the steamer for Charleston, I sent
for an upholsterer, and after explaining to him the defect connected
with my sofa, directed him to have the seating all removed, and then
replaced by new materials, taking particular care to thoroughly
cleanse the inside of the wood work, lest the vestige of a moth
should be left remaining.
All this was done, at a cost of twenty dollars. When Mr. Smith
returned, the sofa was back in its place; and he was none the wiser
for the change, until some months afterwards, when, unable to keep
the secret any longer, I told him the whole story.
I am pretty well cured, I think now, of bargain-buying.