“’This sad occurrence, and its publicity, so mortified my mother, who was harassed with debts she had contracted to keep up appearances, that she survived it but a month. I was then left like a hapless mariner tossed on a troubled sea, and with no friend near. Mrs. Marmaduke made me a mere vassal in her house, and the inmates treated me as if I were born to be scorned. Milando was my only hope, my only true friend-the only one to whom I could confide my heart achings, to whom I could look to save me from a life of shame, to which remorse had almost driven me. And will you believe that he invoked a curse, and resolved to leave his profession, (for he could not live like those shabby men of the newspapers,) to seek means whereby he could live without struggling in poverty and want. True, the wealthy gave him orders for paintings, affected great love for his art, of which they held themselves great patrons when they had bought two pictures. But, as a general thing, they had most excuses when he called, and were least ready to pay, which so tried his proud spirit, that he more than once resigned the pictures to them rather than be a supplicant for his pay.
“’Necessity at last drove him to painting Venuses for keepers of bar rooms, who regarded art only as a means to excite the baser passions of the vulgar. And though he was by this enabled to meet the demands on his purse, the thought of degrading an art to which he had given the devotions of his life, grieved him to the heart. He therefore resolved that, as he could not make it serve the high purpose for which it was intended, he would abandon it. And when he changed his profession, he changed his name. He is now Mr. Pickle of the firm I have before mentioned. We were privately married under that name, and have since lived as humble as you see us. When we have got money enough, my husband will return to his profession. And now, sir, pray adapt yourself to our humble mode of living, and remember that our home is your home while you remain with us.’”
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Which relates how the major dropped the title of major, and took that of general; also, how he joined the young American banking house of pickle, prig, & flutter.
“When the lady had enlisted my sympathy by her narrative,” continued the major, “which she related in a voice so sweet and melodious that I listened to her with unmixed pleasure, the door bell rang, and Mr. Pickle, a man of straight person and medium height, entered. His hair was black, and curled down his neck, which was symmetrical. And, too, his face was singularly expressive, and his features prominent. In a word, his appearance was prepossessing. And in addition to dressing