There was a neat carpet upon the floor, and two comfortable
rocking-chairs in the room, one at each window, with nice plump cushions
in them, and by a center-table, that had upon it a large family Bible, a
copy of "The Pilgrim's Progress," an almanac, and the "Daily Times," was
Mr. Bond's easy-chair. Nobody ever occupied that chair but himself, and
sometimes a sleek, gray cat, that once belonged to Betty Lathrop, and
would have had a joint ownership had Providence spared the mistress. Now
it was his especial care, and he would sit motionless by the window for
hours, rather than disappoint the favored puss of one tittle of her nap.
There was a picture of a young woman over the mantle, which Mr. Bond
thought a master piece of art, and which was the constant theme of his
contemplation. It had a round, ruddy face, and upon the head was a sort
of coiffure which our modern critics might eschew; but which Mr. Bond
believed the very perfection of elegance. It was composed of loops of
muslin disposed on each side over a profusion of brown curls which
distended the head to an enormous width, and upon the top was visible a
high back-comb which quite "capped the climax." The dress of the lady
was black silk, sleeves "_a la mouton_," and a collar of muslin with a
deep frill that reached nearly to the elbows. This was fastened with a
yellow glass pin, the gift of Mr. Bond on his promised possession of the
fair maiden who was to adorn herself with it. Before this portrait was
many a moment spent in vain regrets that it was only the image of that
which, but for an inscrutable wisdom, might have been his. A couple of
glass lamps, and a thermometer formed the mantle ornaments, and a mailed
figure of some Roman general in bronze, and a "Samuel" done in plaster,
completed the luxuries of the apartment.
It was a cosey place to the Bachelor though! the sun had free access
through the curtainless windows, and a merry time of it, it had playing
upon the benevolent features of the good man, until many a little
freckle stood out, as witness to its audacity. There was not a leaf in
his neighbor's garden just below his windows, that was unfamiliar to
him, and the three little girls that came out there to play beneath the
trees, were always glad to see the kind face above them, for many a
paper of sugar-plums fell from a capacious pocket that emptied itself
upon the grass, and many a pleasant word floated downward, to make them
happy. Oh! his was a nature to make a Paradise of any spot! so full of
love toward every living thing! What if his landlady was fidgety and
exacting, and called after him every time he entered the house, to wipe
his feet, and when she went to make his bed, would go around shoveling
up the dirt from the carpet muttering all the time about "some people's
slovenliness?" What if his fellow-lodgers always managed to get his seat
at table, and to eat up all the toast and muffins, before he was once
helped, leaving him only the dry bread with which to satisfy a morning's
appetite? What if the neighbors did torment him by continually stoning
his poor cat every time she took a walk in the garden to breathe the
fresh air, so that he was obliged to turn sentinel over the animal's
pedestrian excursions? It wasn't any thing to grumble about, and so the
peaceful man kept a sunny expression and a blessed and good heart, and
his oppressors only heaped upon themselves disagreeable traits without
moving him to a single murmur.
Mr. Bond did not seem to think it incumbent upon any body else to be
kind, or attentive, or good. He had his own way of living and doing, and
it mattered little to him if all the world went in an opposite
direction, he kept straight on in his bright and pleasant path, and it
brought him abundant joy and blessedness.
His cosey room was unusually beautiful and attractive as he returned
from his visit to the lowly basement, and it was with a feeling of
peculiar satisfaction that he seated himself by a window, with his feet
on the sill and his arms crossed upon his breast, while he watched the
vivid lightning as it glided swiftly about amid the blackened heavens.
Oh! how the rain descended, as if to drown the very earth in its
pouring fury. No wonder the good man heaved a sigh for the inmates of
that dreary room, and fancied himself back in the dismal place, with the
cataract of waters rushing down, until baby, and cradle, and stool were
all afloat as upon the great deep. He could not bear it any longer, and
so he took one of the lamps from the mantle, and struck a light, and
lost himself in his newspapers.