The landlady soon presented herself, and I followed her into the parlor, which was a decent apartment, with a smart centre-table, on which lay an accordion, a recent number of the “Pactolian,” a gilt-edged, illustrated book or two, and a copy of the works of that distinguished native author, to whom I feel very spiteful, on account of his having, some years ago, attacked a near friend of mine, and whom, on Christian principles, I do not mention,—­though I have noticed, that, where there is an accordion on the table, his books are apt to be lying near it.

The landlady was a “wilted,” (not exactly withered,) sad-eyed woman, of the thin-blooded sort, but firm-fibred, and sharpened and made shrewd by her calling, so that the look with which she ran me over, in the light of a possible boarder, was so searching, that I was half put down by it.  I informed her of my errand, which was to make some inquiries concerning two former boarders of hers, in whom a portion of the public had expressed some interest, and of whom I should be glad to know certain personal details,—­as to their habits, appearance, and so on.  Any information she might furnish would be looked upon in the light of a literary contribution to the pages of the “Oceanic Miscellany,” and be compensated with the well-known liberality of the publishers of that spirited, enterprising, and very popular periodical.

Up to this point, the landlady’s countenance had kept that worried, watchful look, which poor women, who have to fight the world single-handed, sooner or later grow into.  But now her features relaxed a little.  The blow which had crushed her life had shattered her smile, and, as the web of shivered expression shot off its rays across her features, I fancied that Grief had written her face all over with ‘Ws’, to mark her as one of his forlorn flock of Widows.

The report here given is partly from the conversation held with the landlady at that time, and partly from written notes which she furnished me; for, finding that she was to be a contributor to the “Oceanic Miscellany,” and that in that capacity she would be entitled to the ample compensation offered by the liberal proprietors of that admirably conducted periodical,—­which we are pleased to learn has been growing in general favor, and which, the public may be assured, no pains will be spared to render superior in every respect,—­I say, finding that she was to be handsomely remunerated, she entered into the subject with great zeal, both verbally and by letter.  The reader will see that I sometimes follow her orthography, and sometimes her pronunciation, as I may have taken it from writing or from speech.

THE LANDLADY’S ACCOUNT.

There is two vacant places at my table, which I should be pleased to fill with two gentlemen, or with a gentleman and his wife, or any respectable people, be they merried or single.  It is about the gentleman and the lady that used to set in them places, that inquiries is bein’ made.  Some has wrote, and some has spoke, and a good many folks, that was unbeknown to me, has come in and wanted to see the place where they used to set, and some days it’s been nothin’ but ring, ring, ring, from mornin’ till night.