MISS JOSEPHINE BURGESS—A TALE.

In which Jonathan shows up the Hardships of Sewing Girls—Describes a Tammany Hall Ball—Milliner Aristocracy and Exclusiveness—Informs the reader how Miss Josephine Burgess took a tall man with whiskers into her Establishment, who took her in in return—The desperation of a little Apothecary—His Marriage, and the Ascent of Miss Josephine Burgess from the front store to a work room a little higher up.

Miss Josephine Burgess was as purty a gal as ever trod shoe leather; but she was awfully stuck up, and got into all kind of finefied notions, arter her par, the old shoemaker, died and left her his arnings. She was an awful smart critter though, and had a sort of a notion which side her bread was buttered on, as well as anybody you ever sot eyes on. Instid of spending the seven hundred dollars, which the stingy old coot of a shoemaker left behind him, all in hard chink, she sot up a milliner's and dress-maker's store in the Bowery; and it raly would have done the old chap's ghost good, to have seen how she contrived to turn the sixpences and half dollars that he'd been hoarding up so long in an old pepper-and-salt stocking, for fear of losing 'em. A tarnal snug bisness Miss Josephine Burgess was a doing, I can tell you. If she didn't know how to make things gibe, there wasn't a gal in the Bowery that did, you may be sartin. She raly had a talent for the bisness—a sort of genius in the bonnet way. With her own harnsome leetle fingers she cut and snipped and twisted and pinned on the shiney stuff and ribbons to all the caps and bonnets turned off by the ten peeked looking thin young girls that worked twelve hours out of every twenty-four, in a garret bed-room, in the back of the house, where Miss Josephine Burgess kept her store. Her thin peeked looking young girls might have enjoyed themselves if they only had a mind to! There never was such a prospect as they had to look upon when they got tired. If they jest turned their bright eyes up to get a peek at the sky, there was a hull regiment of chimnies, all a sending out smoke like a company of Florida sogers; and if they looked down, there were ever so many backyards cut up into sort of pig pens, with lots of bleech boxes a pouring out the brimstone smoke, and old straw bonnets strung out to dry, that made every thing look comfortable and like live. Miss Josephine Burgess was a purty good boss considerin. She let her gals have half an hour to eat their dinners in, and if any on 'em didn't happen to get to the shop at seven o'clock in the morning she never docked off more than half their day's wages. She was rather apt to get out of temper once in a while; but then insted of blowing the gals up, as some cross grained critters will, she only blew up their work, and made them du it all over agin; which was a more easy way of spitting out spite, and putting a few coppers into her own pocket; for when it took half of a day to du the work, and another half to alter it, she only made the poor gals lose a half day's wages; and if they didn't like that she'd al'rs give them leave to get a better place; which, considering that half the sewin gals in York are always out of work, was raly very good natured and considerate in her. Besides this she had a good many ginerous leetle ways of turning a copper. When the peeked, haggard young critters came down from the work-room, at twelve o'clock Saturday night—for Miss Josephine Burgess was awful pious, it wasn't only once in a great while that she made the gals work over into the Sabberday morning—as she paid them their wages Miss Josephine always found out that some mistake had been made in the work—a piece of silk cut into, or a bit of leghorn burnt brown in the bleaching, which melted down the twenty shillings which they ought to have had apiece, to eighteen, or mebby two dollars; all of which must sartinly have been to the satisfaction and amusement of the pale troop of gals, who had two dollars to pay for board, besides clothes and washing to get along with, out of the twenty-five cents that were left; and if they didn't seem to like it, Miss Josephine wasn't agoing to fret her herself about that. She al'rs contrived to tucker them out with hard work before she settled up, so that there was no fear of their saying much agin what she took of their wages. Sometimes the tears would come into their eyes; and some on 'em that hadn't no hum to go tu, except the leetle garret bed-rooms which they were over head and ears in debt for, would burst out and sob as if they hadn't a friend on arth; but crying is a good deal like drinking—it hurts them that take to it more than it does anybody else. Miss Josephine Burgess didn't care a copper for tears and sobs; she'd got used to 'em.

Miss Josephine Burgess raly had a talent for her bisness. Nobody ever learned so many prudent ways of laying up money. She used to dress up like a queen, and her Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes were the genuine things and genteel all over. Eenamost every Sabberday she would go to meeting in a branfire new bonnet; and if some of her good natured customers that staid to hum because theirs warn't finished, had one just like it come to the door on Monday morning, the leetle gal that waited for the band-box only had to say, that she sarched and sarched on Saturday night and couldn't find the house. It doesn't hurt a dashing bonnet to wear it eenajest once. Miss Josephine never kept her customers a waiting over more than one Sunday, only when they were very busy or paid beforehand. Folks that are always a minding other people's business used to talk about Miss Josephine, and call her extravagant and stuck up; but the varmints didn't know what they were a talking about more than nothing. If she had her silks and satins made up every month, the making cost eenamost nothing. The working gals always expected to sit up till twelve o'clock Saturday nights in hurrying times; and when it wasn't hurrying time Miss Josephine had always a frock to finish off for herself or something of that sort. The frocks answered jest as well to make bonnets out on, arter she'd dashed out in 'em once or twice, and the sleeves and waist cut up scrumptiously for ruffles and furbelows.

Miss Josephine Burgess understood the soft sodder principle like a book. She had a way of bantering off the bonnets and gimcracks that was raly curious. If a customer happened to take a notion to having color and shape of a bonnet, she would insist upon it that she should try it on afore the glass; and while the lady was a gittin good natured, and a beginning to feel stuck up with the looks of herself, Miss Josephine would twist about the bows, and spread out the ribbands, and tell how very nice it all was, the face and the bonnet agreed so well. She had jest that face in her mind when the bonnet was under way—so delicate—so graceful—so—so—very handsome. Some people hadn't the least notion of harmony and grace. It raly did her heart good to make things for a lady who knew which was which. She always kept them sort of hats for her most fashionable customers. She wouldn't have them get common for anything—raly she couldn't tell how that one got out on the counter; but shop gals were the most careless critters on arth—sometimes she did feel as if she couldn't git along with 'em—but in them hard times it raly went agin her heart to turn 'em away, so she got along as well as she could.

Here Miss Josephine Burgess would break sharp off and let the customer look at herself in the glass, only just throwing in a word once in a while to help along. Then she'd pull the bonnet a leetle for'ed, tuck away the lady's curls under it, and stick her own head a one side to "take an observation;" arter that she'd kinder put up both hands and say "beautiful!" jest as if the word bust right out, all she could do to help it. By-am-by Miss Josephine Burgess would sort of fold her hands over the black apron, and step back a leetle to give her customer time to twistify afore the glass, and wonder whether the milliner meant the bonnet or her face, or both together, when she said "beautiful." The hull of it eenamost always tarminated by Miss Josephine Burgess selling the bonnet, and the lady's swimming off chuck full and brimming over with soft sodder, like a darn'd turkey-gobbler, stuffed out with Injun meal.

If a customer did not take a notion to the bonnet, or seemed to hanker arter something else, Miss Josephine had nothing to do but to alter her tune for another sort of a dancer.

"Folks with homely faces," sez she, "ought to be squeamish about colors;" in fact they couldn't help it, if they wanted to look decent; but some folks raly seemed to look harnsome in anything; it was the face arter all that sot off the bonnet. Some people had such clear skins that they could bear a bright orange color, and look purty as a pink arter all. Once in a while Miss Josephine sartinly did overdo the bisness a leetle, but she almost always made out to trade somehow, without her customer turned out to be some sly coot of a sister milliner a running round to hunt up patterns, or some darned critter out a shopping on a fourpence-ha'penny capital.

Besides tending her shop, and cutting and trimming, and all that, Miss Josephine Burgess found time to do a leetle courting, over work, with a finefied sort of a 'pothecary feller that sold doctor stuff over the way agin her store. But she didn't let this take up much of her time, nor no sich thing—she wasn't a gal to let her heart run away with her head, any how they could fix it. While the finefied stuck up leetle 'pothecary shut up his shop over the way, and sot more'n half the time twisting up the thread and leetle bits of ribbon that Miss Josephine Burgess snipped off with a pair of sharp pinted scissors, hitched to her side by a black watch guard, and kept a puckering up his mouth and a talking darned finefied nonsense, as sweet as the jujube paste, and the peppermint drops that he brought in his trousers' pocket, she sot as independent as a cork-screw, with one foot stuck upon a bonnet block, a twisting up bows, and a sticking pins and feathers into a heap of silk and millinery stuff. Once in a while she managed to stick a peppermint drop into her leetle mouth, and to turn her eyes to the 'pothecary with sich a look, so soft and killing, it went right straight through his heart, like a pine skewer through a chunk of butcher's meat.

There was never anything went on so slick as these critters did, arter they took to hankering arter each other—it raly was better than a play to see how they got along. The 'pothecary chap was a sneezer at figures. He'd cyphered thro' Dayboll's Arithmetic three times, and could say off the multiplication table without stopping to catch breath. So he sometimes overhauled the milliner's books, not because he wanted to know any thing about them, but 'cause women folks are so apt to be imposed on. He writ out her leetle bills, and kept a sort of running notion of her cash accounts, for she warn't much of a judge of money, and so always sent her bank bills over to his shop to know whether they were ginuine or not. She did all these leetle trifles in a delicate genteel sort of a way, that was sartinly very gratifying and pleasant to the 'pothecary; he raly begun to fat up and grow pussy on the strength on't; it wouldn't aben human natur if he hadn't.

Miss Josephine Burgess was a setting in her back shop a thinking over the 'pothecary chap, and the dollars and cents she'd skinned out of the gals' wages that week, a making them work at half price because the times were so bad, when the 'pothecary came a tip-toeing through the store looking as tickled as if he'd found a sixpence. He took two ball tickets out of his vest pocket and held one on 'em out to the milliner, and stood a bowing and a grinning like a darned babboon till she read the writin' on it.

"I raly don't know what to say," sez she, "I never have been to the Tammany hall, and I—I——"

"It'll be the top of the notch, this one," sez the chap, "they're a goin to be awful partickler who they invite—nothing but the raly genteel who get tickets, I promise 'em."

Miss Josephine Burgess puckered up her mouth, and said "she didn't know: she was afeard she might meet with some of the working classes—she——"

"Don't say no—it'll break my heart, it will sartinly," sez the lovyer. "Don't drive me to takin pison on your account—oh don't."

Miss Josephine kinder started up—gave a sort of a scream—and said she wouldn't drive the 'pothecary to taking pison, and that she would go the ball. The minit she said that the leetle chap went right off into a fit of the dreadful suz: he slumped right down on his marrow bones, and begun to nibble away like all natur at the four little fingers, that stuck out of Miss Josephine Burgess's right hand mit.

"Oh, say only jest one thing more, and I shall be so happy, I shall want to jump out of my skin," sez he, all in a twitteration.

"Oh, dear me, what do you mean? I swanny, I'm all in a fluster," sez she.

"Here, down on my knees, I ask, I entreat, I conjure, most beautiful of wimmen folks," sez he, "that you be my partner, not only at the ball, but through this ere mortal life, that is a stretching before us like a great paster lot covered over with tansey, wild rhubarb and sage roots all in bloom—don't blush, my angel, but speak!"

Now Miss Josephine knew as well as could be, that it was the fashion to feel dreadfully at sich times—to get up a caniption fit, or any how to give right up and set kivered all over with blushes; but the bit of cotton wool that she used always to put on her blushes with, was tucked away in the top of her stocking, and she couldn't get at it handy without being seen. So she puckered up her mouth and looked as if she had just lost her granny.

"Give me one word of hope, now du," sez the anxious 'pothecary, a squeezing the milliner's hand, mit and all, between both of his, and a twisting his head a one side, and a rolling up his eyes, like a hen that's jest done drinking.

"Oh dear suz, what can I answer?" sez Miss Josephine Burgess, a wriggling her shoulders and kivering up her face with one hand, "I never felt so in all my life—dear me."

"Don't spurn me away from these ere leetle feet—nobody will ever love you so agin," sez the anxious chap, and with that he struck his hand sort of fierce agin his heart, that was floundering away under his yaller vest like a duck in a mud-puddle.

"Git up—oh du," sez Miss Josephine, catching a sly peek at the 'pothecary, through her fingers.

"One word of hope," sez the chap, a giving his bosom another tarnal dig; "say that you will be mine."

"I'll think about it," sez Miss Josephine Burgess, a sighing through her fingers.

"Say that you will be mine, or I will die on this ere very spot, and be sent down to posterity a living monument of wimmen's hard-heartedness," sez the 'pothecary, a running his fingers through his hair, till it stuck up sort of wild every which way over his head. "Do you want to make this ere body a morter, and pound my loving heart to pieces with the pestle of delay? If not, speak and say that my love is returned."

"It is," said Miss Josephine Burgess, kinder faint from behind her hand.

"Angelic critter," sez the lovyer.

"Now leave me," sez Miss Josephine Burgess.

"Harnsomest of created wimmen! I will," sez the 'pothecary.

"Oh how my heart beats," sez Miss Josephine Burgess.

"And mine," sez the 'pothecary, a getting up and a spreading his hand out on his yaller vest.

"Leave me now," sez Miss Josephine Burgess.

"My dear critter, I will," sez the 'pothecary.

With that he made tracks across the street, opened his empty money drawer with a sort of a chuckle, as much as to say, "if you're starved out in this way much longer I lose my guess," and then he drank off a glass of cold water, with a leetle brandy in it.

Miss Josephine Burgess sat still as a mouse, till the 'pothecary chap made himself scarce, then she let down her hands and took a squint in the glass to see how her face stood it. Arter that she went to a big drawer, where she kept her slickest dry goods, and cut off a lot of shiney red velvet, which she took up stairs, and told the gal that had charge of the work-room, to have it made up into a ball dress before the gals went home. The ten poor tired young critters were jest a beginning to think about going hum to supper, but they sot down agin and looked in each other's faces, as melancholy as could be, but said nothing. The young gal that had charge of the work-room, happened to say that in the course of a week they would have a prime lot of red velvet bonnets to sell. At this Miss Josephine Burgess looked as cross as if she'd swallowed a paper of darning needles, and told the young gal to hold her tongue, and mind her own business. At this the young gal drew up, and was a going to give the milliner her change back agin, but jest that minit she happened to think that taking sarce from a stuck up critter was bad enough, but that starving was a good deal worse; and so she choked in and went to work at the dress, with her heart a swelling in her harnsome bosom, like a bird when it's first caught.

"Don't let them gals go to sleep over their work," sez Miss Josephine Burgess, as she was a going down stairs.

The young gal who had charge of the work-room, said something sort of loud about people's having no feeling.

"What's that you say?" sez Miss Josephine Burgess, a coming back as spiteful as could be.

"Nothing," sez the young gal who had charge of the work-room.

"It's well you didn't," sez the milliner, and with that she went down stairs, and the poor tuckered out young critters didn't get hum to supper till ten o'clock at night, because they had to stay and finish off Miss Josephine Burgess's ball finery.

Miss Josephine Burgess was a sitting in the leetle room up over her store, ready dressed for the ball, when the little apprentice gal cum up and told her, that the gentleman from over the way was a waiting down stairs. The milliner jumped up and began to wriggle about afore the looking glass to be sartin that the red velvet frock, the golden chain, and the heap of posies that she'd twistified in her hair, were all according to gunter. Arter she'd took a purty gineral survey, she went down stairs about the darndest stuck up critter that you ever sot eyes on.

The 'pothecary stood afore the looking glass a trying to coax his hair to curl a leetle, and a pulling up fust one side of his white satin stock and then t'other, to make it set up parpendicular. He'd got a leetle speck of dirt on his silk stockings and his shiney dancing pumps, a coming across the street, so he took his white hankercher out of his pocket and began to dust them off; but the minit Miss Josephine Burgess cum in he stopped short, stepped back agin the wall, and held up both hands as if he raly didn't know what to du with himself, and sez he—

"I never did! Talk about the Venus de Medici, or the New York beauty! Did ever anything come up to that are?"

Arter this bust of feeling, he gin a spring fore'd and ketching her hand, eenamost eat it up, he kissed so consarned eager. It didn't seem as if there was any contenting the darn'd love-sick coot. But when he hung on too hard, the milliner's vartuous indignation begun to bile up, and so he choked off and begged her pardon; but said he couldn't help it, as true as the world he couldn't, his heart was brim full and a running over.

I ruther guess the people stared a few when the leetle 'pothecary walked along the Tammany ball-room with Miss Josephine Burgess, in her red velvet and golden chains, a hanging on his arm. Sich dashers didn't show themselves at every ball by a great sight. There was a ginuine touch of the aristocracy in the way the leetle 'pothecary turned up his nose, and flourished his white gloves; and when they stood up to dance, Miss Josephine held out her red velvet, and stuck out her foot, and curcheyed away as slick as any of the Broadway gals could a done it. But jest as she was a going to dance, who should stand afore her in the same reel but the very young gal that took charge of her work-room. The milliner had jest took a fold of the red velvet between her thumb and finger, and was flourishing out her foot to balance up as genteel as could be, but the minit she ketched sight of the working gal, she gin her head a toss and reaching out her hand to the 'pothecary, walked off to a seat in a fit of outraged dignity that was raly beautiful to look at. Arter this Miss Josephine Burgess said she wouldn't try to dance among sich low critters; and so she and the 'pothecary sidled about, eat peppermint drops and talked soft sodder to one another—alers taking care to turn up their noses when the harnsome working gal cum within gun-shot of 'em.

"Who can that gentleman be, that's a eyeing me through his glass," sez Miss Josephine Burgess to the 'pothecary, "what harnsome whiskers he's got, did you ever?"

"I don't see anything over genteel in him, any how," sez the 'pothecary a looking sort of oneasy. "I really can't see how you ladies can take a fancy to so much hair."

"But how nicely he's dressed," sez she.

"I aint over fond of shaggy vests and checkered trousers," says the 'pothecary.

"Dear me he's coming this way," sez the milliner all in a twitter,—"I hope he wont think of speaking."

"I hope so too," sez the 'pothecary, a looking as if he'd jest eat a sour lemon, without any sweetening.

The chap come along sort of easy and independent, and stood close by 'em.

"Shan't we go t'other end of the room?" sez the 'pothecary to the milliner, kinder half whispering, and a eyeing the strange chap as savage as a meat-ax. "Not yet," sez the milliner, giving a slantindicular sort of a look at the strange chap. He wasn't a feller to be sneezed at in the way of good looks any how, nor a man that was likely to lose anything by his bashfulness; for it warn't more than three minutes afore he asked the milliner to dance, and walked her out as crank as could be, right afore the 'pothecary's face. Didn't the poor leetle chap look wamble-cropped when he see that. There he stood all alone in a corner, feeling as sick as if he'd swallowed a dose of his own doctor's stuff, and there he had to stand; for arter the tall chap and Miss Josephine Burgess had got through dancing, they sot down together by a winder and begun to look soft sodder at one another, and talk away as chipper as two birds on an apple tree limb in spring time. It didn't do no good for the 'pothecary to rile up and make motions to her—she didn't seem to mind him a bit; so he stood still and grit his teeth, for it seemed to him as if the milliner and the red velvet, besides the account books, the stock in trade, and the hard chink too, was a sliding out of his grip like a wet eel.

"Darn the feller to darnation," sez he, arter he'd bore it as long as he could—and with that he went up to Miss Josephine Burgess, sort of humble, and asked her if it wasn't about time to be a going hum?

The milliner said she wasn't in any hurry about it, and went to talking with the tall chap agin. It was as much as the poor lovyer could do to keep from busting out a crying, or a swearing, he warn't partic'lar which; he felt all struck up of a heap, and went off to his corner agin as lonesome as a goose without a mate.

By-am-by the milliner she come up and told him she was about ready to go hum; the tall chap he went down stairs with them, and stood a kissing his hand to her till she got into the street. The 'pothecary raly felt as if he should bust, and he gin her a purty decent blowing up as they went along Chatham-street. She didn't give him much of an answer though, for her head was chuck full of the tall chap's soft sodder, and she didn't know more than half of what he was a jawing about.

The leetle 'pothecary went hum and hurried up to bed, but all he could du he couldn't get a wink of sleep. He got up arly in the morning, but he hadn't no appetite for his breakfast, and kinder hung about his shop door a keeping a good look out to see if anybody went to the milliner's, and a wondering if it was best for him to go over and see how she seemed to be arter what he'd said to her the night afore. So he brushed up his hair and was just taking his hat to go over and try his luck, when a harnsome green buggy waggon hauled up jest agin the milliner's, and out jumped the tall chap with the whiskers.

The 'pothecary he turned as white as a sheet and begun to cuss and swear like all natur. He had plenty of time to let his wrathy feelings bile over, for it was more than three hours afore the green buggy waggon driv away agin. The minit it was out of sight, the 'pothecary snatched up his hat and scooted across the street like a crazy critter. Miss Burgess was a sitting in her leetle back room dressed out like anything. This made him more wrathy than he was afore, for she never dressed out when he was a coming, so he went straight up to her, and sez he, sort of wrathy,

"Miss Josephine Burgess, what am I to think of this ere treatment?"

The milliner looked up as innocent as a kitten, as if she hadn't the least idee what he meant.

"What treatment?" sez she, as mealy-mouthed as could be.

The 'pothecary felt as if he should choke; he griped his hand, and the words came out of his mouth like hot bullets.

"Oh you perfidious critter, you," sez he, "how can you look in my face arter you've been a sitting three hull hours with that darn'd nasty tall coot that you danced with all the time last night."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean more than nothing. I danced with a gentleman last night, and he has been here this morning, but I raly don't see why you should trouble yourself about it," sez Miss Josephine, a taking up her work, and a beginning to sew as easy as she ever did in her life.

The 'pothecary was so mad, he couldn't but jest speak out loud. "Look a here, Miss Burgess," sez he, a speaking sort of hoarse, "aint we as good as married? didn't you engage yourself to me? and wasn't the day eenajest sot afore that consarned etarnal ball?"

"Not that I ever knew on," says Miss Burgess, a pinning a pink bow on to a bonnet she was to work on, and a holding it out to see how it looked, "I raly don't know what you mean."

The 'pothecary begun to tremble all over, he was so tarnal mad to see her setting there as cool as a cucumber.

"You don't know what I mean, do you?" sez he. "Look a here, marm, haint I been to see you off and on for more than a year? Haint I footed up your books and made out bills and done all your out-door business, this ever so long? Haint I give you ounces on ounces of jujube paste, emptied a hull jar of lemon drops, and more than half kept you in pearl powder and cold cream?"

"Wal, you needn't talk so loud and tell everybody of it," sez the milliner a going on with her work all the time, but the leetle chap had got his grit up, and there was no "who" to him. On he went like a house afire.

"Wasn't it me that stopped you from taking them are darn'd Brandreth's pills. Didn't I tell you they warn't no better than rank pisin, and that no rale lady would ever think of stuffing herself with such humbug trash? I'll be choked if I don't wish I'd let you swaller fifty boxes of 'em—I wish I had—I do by gracious!"

"Don't make such a noise," sez the milliner, "it wont do no good, I can tell you."

"Wont it though? wont it? I rather guess you'll find out in the end. I'll sue you for a breach of promise—if I don't jest tell me on't, that's all."

The 'pothecary was a going on to say a good deal more, but jest as he begun to let off steam agin some customers come into the front shop. Miss Josephine Burgess put down her work and went out as if nothing on arth had happened. The 'pothecary waited a few minits a biling over with spite, and then he kicked a bonnet block across the room, upset a chair, and cut off through the store like all possessed. The milliner was a bargaining away with her customers for dear life—she looked up and larfed a little easy, as the poor feller sneaked through the store, and that was all she cared about it.

The poor coot of an apothecary went over to his shop and slammed the door tu hard enough to shake the house down. Then he went back of the counter, took down a jar full of corrosive supplement and poured some on it out in a tumbler, but somehow there was something in the thought of dying all of a sudden, that didn't exactly come up to his idee of comfort; so he poured back the pison and took a mint julep instead—that sort of cooled him down a trifle—so he made up his mind to put off drinking the pison till by-am-by.

Every day for three weeks that green buggy waggon, and the tall man with the whiskers, stopped before Miss Josephine Burgess' door. The 'pothecary grit his teeth and eyed the pisin with so awful desperate look every time the buggy came in sight; and when he heard that Miss Josephine Burgess was a gitting her wedding frock made, and was raly a going to be married to a foreign chap as rich as a Jew, that had fallen in love with her at the Tammany ball, he filled the tumbler agin brimming full, and then chucked the pison in the grate, and said he'd be darned if he made sich an etarnal fool of himself any longer; the critter wasn't worth taking a dose of salts for, much less a tumbler brim full of pison. Arter this he bore up like a man; and one day when he saw the green buggy come a trifle arlier than ever it did afore, and see the tall chap jump out all dressed off tu kill, with white gloves on, and a white hankercher a streaming out of his coat pocket, he jest put his teeth together and looked on till he saw Miss Josephine Burgess come out with a white silk bonnet on, and a great long white veil streaming over it, and see her take a seat in the buggy waggon with the tall man in whiskers. It wasn't no news to him when he heard that Miss Josephine Burgess was married, and had sold out her shop; but when he heard that the young gal that took charge of the work-room had got some relation to buy out the stock for her, the apothecary brightened up like anything; and he was heard to say that arter all the young gal that took charge of the work-room wasn't to be grinned at in a fog; for his part, he thought her full as harnsome as Miss Josephine Burgess.

There was no two ways about it,—Miss Josephine Burgess was raly married to the tall man in whiskers, and she had sold out to the young gal that had taken charge of the work-room. About three days arter the wedding, the tall man with whiskers sot in the room over what had been Miss Josephine Burgess's store, and leetle she that had been Miss Josephine Burgess herself, sot in the tall man's lap, with one arm round his neck. Her purty slim fingers had been a playing with his shiny black curls so long that some of the black color came off and made them leetle fingers look sort of smutty. Once in a while the bride would pat the tall man's cheek and call him a naughty critter, and ask him how many ladies he'd been in love with afore he see her; and the tall man would say—"not one upon my honor!" at which she would pat his cheek agin and say she didn't believe a word on it. Then the tall man in whiskers would begin to look as if he raly had been a killing critter with the women folks, and would say that he wouldn't deny it—he had now and then his leetle flirtations, like all men of rale fashion—but he'd never in his whole life took sich a notion to a critter as he had to her. With that Miss Josephine Burgess (that was) would fling both of her arms round the tall man's neck, and declare that there was not so proud and happy a critter on the hull arth as she was.

Wal, arter this, the tall man in wiskers took hold of the chain that his bride had round her neck, and sez he, "My dear love, I raly can't bear to see you rigged out in these ere old fashioned things. When you was only a milliner they did well enough, but now you musn't wear no jewelry that aint at the top of the notch; jest pack all on 'em up, that are watch of your'n and all, and I'll go and swap 'em off for a set of jewelry that's worth while. When I take you hum among all my folks, they'd larf at these awk'ard things."

With that the bride begun to looked streaked enough, so she sot to work and lugged out all the gold things she had; her watch and great heavy chain, and ear-rings, and ever so many gim-cracks. So the tall man put them all in his pocket and took up his hat, and sez he, "I'll soon get rid of these ere things, and bring you something that is something."

Miss Josephine Burgess that was, said there never was so kind a critter, and jest to let her see that she wasn't much out in saying that are, he cum back from the door, and sez he, "Seeing as I'm a going out, I may as well take that are little sum of money and put in some bank for you; of course I don't want anything of it, but it raly don't seem jest safe here, among all these sewing gals." Miss Josephine Burgess that was went to her chest of drawers and took out a heap of bank bills and gave them to him. The tall man in whiskers put the bills in his trousers' pocket, buttoned it up tight, then give the pocket a leetle slap and was a going out agin. But Miss Josephine Burgess that was she follered arter and sticking her head through the door she sung out sort of easy, sez she,

"My dear darling, you've forgot something!"

"You don't say so," sez the tall man in whiskers, and he stood up straight as a loon's leg, "what is it—any more jewelry, my pet?"

"Can't you guess?" said Miss Josephine Burgess that was, sort of sly, a twisting her head a one side, and pussing out her mouth awful tempting.

"Oh," sez the man in whiskers, and then there was a little noise as if a bottle of Newark cider had been uncorked kinder easy.

"You'll come right straight back, dear?" sez Miss Josephine Burgess that was, a running to the door agin—"you will, won't you?"

"Sartinly, my sweet love," sez the tall man in whiskers, a stopping on the stairs and kissing her hand over the railing.

"By-by," sez Miss Josephine Burgess that was.

"By-by," sez the tall man in whiskers.

Miss Josephine Burgess that was sot by the window and looked arter the tall man till he got eenamost down to Chatham square. She waited a hull hour and he didn't come back; then she waited two hours; then all night; and the next week and the next, till she'd been a waiting three hull months,—and arter all the tall man in whiskers didn't seem to hurry himself a bit.

About a year arter the Tammany ball, the leetle 'pothecary was sitting in the back room of what once was Miss Josephine Burgess's milliner store—his wife that used to take charge of the work-room, stood close by; and the 'pothecary was a looking over his wife's day book. Jest as he was a adding up a tarnal long row of figures, one of the hands come down stairs and was a going out.

"Look a here, Miss Josephine Burgess, or Miss what's your name." sez the 'pothecary, "if you're determined to go home the minit your hour is up, these hurrying times, it's my idee that you'd better look out for some other shop to work in."

The color riz up in the poor woman's face, but it was her turn to be snubbed and drove about, without daring to say her soul was her own. So instead of riling up, she spoke as meek as could be, and sez she, "I aint very well, I've got a dreadful headache."

"Cant help that," sez the 'pothecary, "we pay you twenty shillings a week, fust rate wages, to work, so you may jest step back to the work-room with your headache, or I'll dock off fifty cents when it comes Saturday night if you don't. Go troop—I'll have you to know you aint mistress in this shop, or master neither."

Miss Josephine Burgess had a temper of her own, but she owed for her board, and so choked in and went up stairs as mad as all natur.

The apothecary's wife was a good hearted critter, and it raly made her feel bad to see her old boss used so.

"Don't speak so to her," sez she to the 'pothecary, "she raly looks tired and sick, don't hurt her feelings."

"Humbug," sez the 'pothecary, stretching himself up, and a buttoning his trousers' pocket as pompously as could be, "humbug, what bisness have sewing girls with feelings."

"I was a sewing gal once," sez the 'pothecary's wife.

"Yes—and how did that darned stuck up critter use you, tell me that?" sez he.

The 'pothecary's wife didn't answer; but the minit her husband had gone out she went into the kitchen and took a bowl of ginuine hot tea up to the work room. Miss Josephine Burgess that was, sot on a stool looking as mad as a march hare; she began to sew as soon as the 'pothecary's wife come in, as grouty as could be; but when the kind critter gin her the bowl of tea, and told her it would be good for her head-ache, the poor sewing girl boo-hooed right out a crying.

Jonathan Slick.