Part 5 (1/2)

XVI.

THE REMARKABLE HISTORY OF JEMMY JESSAMY.

”Jemmy Jessamy,” writes f.a.n.n.y Fern, ”was a double-distilled old bachelor. He had occupied the same quarters at ---- Hotel for five-and-twenty years. The chamber-maid that 'cleared up' No. 25, dared not, at the price of her scalp, misplace a boot or a tooth-brush. If his breakfast was brought up five minutes before the time, it was ordered down again--and woe to the luckless waiter who brought him hot water when he spoke for cold, or failed to transmit, with telegraphic speed, any card or parcel left at the bar. The first thing _he_ knew he didn't know _nothing_. In other words, Jemmy saved him the trouble of going down stairs, by landing him, 'on his own hook,' (nolens volens) in the lower entry.

”Jemmy took two or three hours to _make himself up_ in the morning, emerging from his sh.e.l.l at 10 o'clock in the forenoon, a perfect Beau Brummell. The most fastidious taste could detect no flaw; the most critical or censorious eye no foppery. His figure was matchless, or his tailor, or both together; and his coats always of a shade of color unattainable by any one but Jemmy. Last, not least, he rejoiced in a set of d.i.c.kies that left him at perfect liberty to look east, west, north or south, without cutting his ears off! He never appeared in public, 'en dishabille,' either of body or mind. Both were, at such times, in their holiday suit.

”Now it was very selfish in Jemmy to 'waste his sweetness on the desert air,' for so many years; but he had two good reasons for it.

The first was that he considered himself too bright a jewel to be in the possession of any one woman exclusively. The next was, he was terribly afraid of being taken in. He never made a call on a _single_ woman without taking some male acquaintance (not too attractive) to neutralize the force of the compliment. A bright eye or a pretty ankle gave him spasms. He couldn't live away from their owners, and he was afraid to go too near them.

”He was most at his ease in a large family of sisters, where he could sprinkle about his attentions and gallantries in h.o.m.oeopathic doses; or in the society of married ladies, where a man stands in no fear of being asked ”_his intentions_.”

”Susy ---- was the bright, particular star in _this_ firmament. She was always in choice spirits, sparkling as a bottle of champagne, well-dressed, good-tempered, always ready for a drive, a walk, a sail or a pic-nic, and always the belle of the party.

”She was visiting at the house of a friend; and Jemmy felt himself so _safe_ there. The newest piece of music, the most fragrant of Gibbens'

bouquets, the last of d.i.c.kens's perpetrations, found their way to ”Barley Place, No. 5.” Susy hemmed three splendid neck-ties, with her own fair fingers; mended the little rips in his gloves, (that he had amused himself _making_ for her when he sat alone in his room,) and told him, confidentially, how to trim his moustache and where to lay the pruning-knife to his whiskers. Jemmy was a lucky man!

”Jem,” said Tom Lane, one night, as they sat smoking their cigars with their feet ten degrees higher than their heads, ”how much longer are you going to trifle with that little widow? Why don't you ask her and done with it?”

”Widow! ask her! done with it!” said Jem, with a stupid stare, as his cigar fell into the ashes. ”They said 'her husband was absent.'”

”Absent! Ha! ha! his tombstone will tell you about that!”

”I'm ruined,” said Jem, ”_ruined_! I have driven her out; walked with her, sailed with her, praised her eyes and hair, sent her bouquets, and music, and poetry; I've--I've done everything, Tom. What's to be done? I won't be married. I'd as lief be hung;” and p.r.o.nouncing the latter part of the word _condemnation_, rather audibly, he rushed into the open air to take breath!

”The next day the following item appeared in the newspapers:

”MYSTERIOUS.--The admirers of James Jessamy, Esq., will be pained to learn of his sudden and unaccountable disappearance from the ---- Hotel. No clue has as yet been discovered of his whereabouts. His papers, books and wearing-apparel, are in safe keeping for his relatives, and may be had on application to Sam Springle, ---- Hotel.”

XVII.

JEMMY JESSAMY'S DEFENCE.

To f.a.n.n.y Fern.--_Miss Fern_: Your wanton and unprovoked attack upon me, in the last edition of the ”True Flag,” headed ”Look before you Leap,” is a _leetle_ more than I can stand. I should like to know what on earth has induced you to expend your electricity upon ”Jemmy Jessamy, the double-distilled bachelor?” Calling me by name, and thus setting me up as a public mark, and proclaiming just the number of years I have boarded in ”---- Hotel, No. 25,” and then heralding my peculiarities in regard to the chamber-maid, has put me in no enviable predicament. I begin to think it is high time I knew ”something.”

My hour for rising, I acknowledge, is ten A. M. I am not, then, the perfect ”Beau Brummell” you have described; for I have never obtruded my calls upon anybody until ten o'clock, by my double repeater. Well, if I was skittish about approaching women, formerly, what must I be now, since your virago-tongue has used me up by piecemeal! Talking about my ”d.i.c.keys” sitting comfortably! What if I _do_ allow myself a commendable lat.i.tude for turning every way? When _such_ weather-c.o.c.ks are in the market, it behooves us to ”look before we leap.” Besides, I have never taxed a female eye to st.i.tch a d.i.c.key, sew on a b.u.t.ton, make a s.h.i.+rt, or repair an overcoat since I have been in the above hotel. My tailor has always been my seamstress: and his bills, like some of the married fraternity, do not remain _unpaid_. But what right had you to a.s.sign my reasons for remaining single, and bestowing my attentions in ”h.o.m.oeopathic doses upon a whole family of sisters?”

Then I am served up at ”No. 5 Barley Place,” and a game is made about myself and the widow ”Susy.” I am represented as playing the part of a lover, supposing her a married lady. She never sewed a rip in my glove, nor cut or curled a single hair of my moustaches in her life.

To be sure, Tom Lane is a joking fellow, and he _did_ talk about her husband's tombstone; but it was all gas, and, as I thought, ended in smoke.

But, last of all, I am described as absconding from my hotel.

Heavens! what a tongue you have got. Hadn't I a right to go South to cure a consumption, without a strange woman's meddling about it? While I was there, however, Miss Fan, I heard of a place just suited to your capacities. An editor advertised for a partner ”that could write out thunder and lightning at a stroke.” I thought of you, and added, I knew one that could do that, and throw a powerful deluge along with it. This is evidently your lat.i.tude. People at the South indulge in personalities, and then challenge each other for a duel. In this way, you would be spared many of your random shots.

The time was, when I seriously thought of the subject of marriage. I have bothered over the subject, whether women are really what they appear, until I am satisfied. If _you_ are an untamed, undisguised, plain representative of the s.e.x, may heaven protect all future Caudles from such emblems of affection! If I am an old bachelor, I am determined to wear the breeches myself. You need not dream about a codicil being attached to my will,--for your last attack has completely and forever estranged you from all claims, human or divine on